Stan is still The Man

By JOE POSNANSKI
The Kansas City Star
http://www.kansascity.com/sports/
Posted on Tue, Jul. 14, 2009

ST. LOUIS - The Man did not hit in 56 straight games. He did not hit .400. He did not hit 61 home runs in a season, and he did not hit 500 home runs in a career. Stan Musial did not play in 2,632 consecutive games, and he did not knock out 4,256 hits, and he did not hit three home runs in a World Series game. He did not say funny or clever things like “It ain’t over ’til it’s over,” or “Nice guys finish last.” As far as I know, he did not have a candy bar named after him.

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ST LOUIS, MO - JULY 14: U.S. President Barack Obama shakes hands with hall of famer Stan Musial. before throwing out the first pitch at the 2009 MLB All-Star Game at Busch Stadium on July 14, 2009 in St Louis, Missouri.

Then, there were a few other things Stan Musial did not do, other things that filled the mind on an emotional Tuesday night in St. Louis, All-Star night, as Musial rode in a small red car from right field while 46,000-strong applauded for him — few shrieks, few yells, just applause, like waves crashing on the beach.

All night, the baseball gurus tried hard to induce goosebumps. That’s what they do at All-Star Games. Goosebumps are the point. They introduced the players one by one, of course. They played sweeping music. They had a video of all five living presidents talking about public service — George W. Bush got the second loudest cheer of the night behind Albert Pujols — and a gigantic American flag covered the entire outfield, and a B-2 Spirit Stealth Bomber soared majestically overhead. Sheryl Crow sang the national anthem. President Obama threw out the first pitch. And the American League won, like always.

But no part of the night could touch that pregame scene of Musial, 88 years old now, riding in from the outfield, the St. Louis applause all around him like humidity. He held a bright white baseball. He smiled his famous smile. They say that Musial these days has good days and bad days. This, obviously, was one of the good ones.

All around the stadium, undoubtedly, older fans tried to explain what Musial meant. It isn’t easy because, as mentioned, to explain what Musial did you really have to talk about all those things that Musial did not do.

For instance: He did not get thrown out of a single game in his career. Not one. Musial played in more than 3,000 games in his career, and he never once showed up an umpire, never once took his frustrations out on the field, never once treated the game with anything less than respect. Once, famously, he crushed a run-scoring double down the line, only to have the umpire call it foul. Several Cardinals rushed the umpire – it was obvious the guy had blown the call. The manager and a teammate were thrown out.

Musial walked back to the home plate umpire and said, “It didn’t count, huh?” When the umpire tried to apologize — he knew it was a fair ball too — Musial said “Well, there’s nothing you can do about it.” And on the next pitch, he promptly cracked a run-scoring double to precisely the same spot.

September 5, 1949

What else did he do? What else didn’t he do? Musial did not ever turn down a child’s autograph request. Harry Caray, the old Cardinals announcer, always remembered the time when on a steaming hot St. Louis day — plenty of those here — he watched Musial limp out to his car only to find a bunch of kids wanting autographs.

“Watch this,” Caray told the person with him. And Musial signed every one.
Musial did not ever take his time getting out of the batter’s box. You don’t hit 725 doubles in your life by loafing your way out of the box. You don’t lead the National League in doubles eight times and triples five times by waiting to see where your hit lands. Musial hit the ball hard, and he ran hard because that’s the way a man is supposed to play big league ball.

Musial did not take anything for granted. He grew up in Donora, Pa., at a time when the smoke from the zinc factory blocked the sky and killed anything green that tried to grow on the hillside. He did not forget. Every day, when someone would ask him how he was doing, Musial would say “Wonderful.” It was his favorite word. It was his favorite way to be.

Musial did not treat anyone as less than himself. Maybe my favorite Musial story is about the time he faced Joe Black, the Dodger pitcher, one of the first African-American pitchers in the big leagues. And when Musial stepped into the box, several of the Cardinals players started riding Joe Black, throwing racial taunts. Musial kicked at the dirt and spat and did not seem to hear a word.

After the game ended, though, Black would say that he was in the clubhouse getting dressed when he felt an arm on his shoulder. It was Musial. “I’m sorry that happened,” Musial said. “But don’t you worry about it. You’re a great pitcher. You will win a lot of games.”

Sometimes it seems like Musial’s brilliance has been lost — or, at least misplaced — in baseball history. Maybe it’s because his greatness was in his consistency — and consistency is so hard to capture. He had 1,815 hits at home and 1,815 hits on the road. He hit .300 for 16 consecutive years and won seven batting titles. He led the league in runs five times, in RBIs twice, he walked 100 times or more three times. And so on. And so on.

Then, maybe it’s because his greatness was in his class — and class is hard to capture too. Nobody has ever been more loved — by teammates and competitors alike — than Stan Musial. Nobody ever played the game with more heart.

Busch Stadium, St. Louis

Or maybe it’s just that time has gone on and all those things that Stan Musial stood for don’t matter to us as much as they once did. You worry about that sometimes, worry that sports have lost something — that our world has lost something — somewhere along the way. Then, on a warm summer night, you see Stan Musial, and you see classy young players like Albert Pujols and Joe Mauer and Curtis Granderson smiling broadly, and you hear the applause, and it all feels right again.