There is something magical about October baseball, perhaps because its seasonal arc seems perfectly positioned and scripted for the drama of life itself.
It was the late Bart Giamatti, the Yale president turned baseball commissioner, who so poignantly observed:
The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall all alone.
An extra round of playoffs has shortened the loneliness of fall a bit, but the opening of the World Series this weekend between the New York Yankees and the Los Angeles Dodgers is something of a nostalgic reunion. The Dodgers and Yankees have previously met 11 times in the Fall Classic, the most of any other franchise match up.
Growing up in New York, my Yankee-fan father waxed poetic about those epic Subway Series of the 1940s and 50s. He’d talk about racing home from school to listen on the radio or standing on the sidewalk in front of a Manhattan television store catching updates through the sets in the window.
My dad’s two favorite Yankees were Hall of Famer’s Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle. He once ran into Joe at the Fountainbleau Hotel in Miami Beach. Joe was predictably debonair and gracious. Sadly, my father’s one Mickey encounter was less idyllic, talking with the intoxicated former star outside his restaurant across from New York City’s Central Park.
Linked forever as legendary centerfielders for the New York Yankees (Mickey’s first year was Joe’s last), both men’s faith journeys made news over the years. DiMaggio, a cradle Catholic, at times sparred with the leadership of his church. After marrying and then divorcing Marilyn Monroe, New York’s Archbishop Fulton Sheen told the Yankee Clipper, “You had no right marrying her in the first place.” An upset DiMaggio responded defiantly, and although he never spoke to Bishop Sheen again, he continued to attend Mass regularly.
My father had caught Mickey Mantle at a low point, the former slugger weakened by the ravages of alcoholism. It wasn’t until 1994 that The Mick finally tackled the addiction, checking into the Betty Ford Clinic. He wound up receiving a liver transplant the following summer, but it was too late. Dying, Mantle phoned his friend and old teammate Bobby Richardson and invited the team’s former second baseman for a visit. A devout Christian, Richardson enthusiastically agreed.
“I can’t wait to tell you this,” Mantle told Richardson when his friend arrived inside his hospital room. “I want you to know that I’m a Christian. I’ve accepted Christ as my Savior.”
Taking no chances, Bobby Richardson, who is now 89 years old, and who had previously witnessed unsuccessfully to his teammate, wanted to make sure his conversion was real.
“Mickey, you and I are both sinners,” he responded. “We are in that same category. And the Bible says there’s a penalty involved. ‘The wages of sin is death’ — eternal death. The good news is that Christ died for our sins. He was buried, and He rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures. That day as a young boy, I responded to ask God to forgive me and for my sins, and I received Him as Lord and Savior of my life.”
“That’s just what I’ve done,” Mickey assured his friend. “I have received Jesus Christ as my Savior.”
Mantle’s deathbed conversion came to mind recently watching Charlie Rose interview longtime NBC sports broadcaster Bob Costas. At 82 years old, Rose, the former PBS broadcaster, was abruptly cancelled in 2017 after accusations of repeated sexual harassment claims. He’s been quietly trying to make a comeback online.
A fanatical Mantle fan, Costas carried the Yankees’ centerfielder’s baseball card in his wallet for decades. Over the years, they became friends, so much so that Costas was invited to eulogize Mantle at his funeral.
Speaking with Rose, Costas recalled a memorable dinner he hosted in his St. Louis home with both Mantle and Cardinals Hall of Famer Stan Musial. It was around the same time my father bumped into the inebriated Mick in New York City.
Here’s how Costas described it:
Mickey was having a very tough time in his life. It was before he went to Betty Ford. He was drinking heavily.
We had a dinner, and I decided that it would make Mickey comfortable if people he knew were there, so we invited Stan and Lil (Stan’s wife) for dinner; and Mickey said, “I don’t know how I’m gonna do it, but I’m not gonna have a single drink all day today or all night out of respect for Stan. I don’t wanna do anything foolish when Stan is here.”
And the night went on and many laughs were had, and stories were told. And then after everyone left and everyone else had gone to sleep, it was just me and Mickey sitting there talking well after midnight. And Mickey Mantle, who was a flawed but somehow always lovable man, said something that was searingly honest and also in its own way eloquent.
He said, “You know, I had as much ability as Stan, maybe more. Nobody had more power than me, nobody could run any faster than me. But Stan was a better player than me because he’s a better man than me. Because he got everything out of his life and out of his ability that he could, and he’ll never have to live with all the regret that I live with.”
When Stan Musial passed away in 2013 at the age of 92, New York’s Archbishop Timothy Cardinal Dolan, a lifelong Cardinals fan, called his St. Louis hero, “A great American, a great baseball player, a great Catholic.”
Mickey Mantle was right that a great life comes from being a good man. But most importantly, he learned that eternal life comes not from doing, but from accepting Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord of your life.
It remains to be seen how epic this 120th World Series will be, but Christian fans, especially, have inspiring player storylines to follow. From the Yankees’ home run king Aaron Judge, who points to Christ after each blast, to star reliever Luke Weaver’s “Bible glove” to the Dodgers’ Freddie Freeman, who prays before he plays, there will be a refreshing Christian witness on the diamond.
Let the leaves fall and the chilly nights descend as winter knocks on the door. Let’s play ball!
Image credit: National Baseball Hall of Fame
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