When I was a boy (I am now in my 70’s), and the game of baseball reigned supreme, there were two givens that were part of the annual “firmament” of the greatest of all sports: In the American League, the Yankees would win or contend for the pennant, and, in the National, Stan Musial would win or contend for the batting title. For most of those years, I was too young and naïve to fully grasp the role of the press in lionizing certain stars, or in their failing to do similarly when other, equally deserving giants of the game played too far away from the bright lights of New York City and its environs. As I grew older, and understood more, I nevertheless was, and remain, shocked by two subsequent developments: baseball would lose its grip on the imagination of large segments of the public, and the unique greatness of Stan Musial would be largely forgotten. The first of these is, I suppose, understandable in an age when the fastest growing “sports” in our country involve people enthusiastically watching other people drive souped-up motor cars very fast around a concrete track and, alas, in the explosion of so-called “professional” wrestling. In the case of Stan “The Man,” while there was never an argument among the cognoscenti who understood the Great Game, he became appallingly undervalued by the larger sporting public in ways that can only be explained by reason of ignorance.
I regret that for young people, who live in an era of tarnished heroes, of performance-enhancing drugs and fictitious girlfriends, there are so few athletes who, by their personal dignity and their on-the-field accomplishments, genuinely deserve the adulation we once accorded to a few superstars of a bygone age, but Stan Musial really was one of those people. Given what has transpired since his departure from the game, his departure from life is all-the-more mourned by all who truly understand.