Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?

As I sit here tonight I have found myself watching Ken Burns' Baseball on the MLB Network. In case you are wondering, it is the Sixth Inning of the great PBS Documentary. Currently they are profiling Joltin' Joe DiMaggio, owner of the longest hitting streak in Major League Baseball history. I have always been enamored by DiMaggio. Unfortunately, I was born about 60 years too late. I would have loved to have witnessed the wonder years of baseball.

Today, professional athletes take their gifts for granted. It is all about the paycheck and not about the game. We, the fans, seem to be less important than we have ever been. I still love the game and I think it is the greatest spectacle there is in sports. There is nothing better than sitting in the sun with an ice cold Coke, a bag of peanuts, a pencil, a scorecard and bright red foam tomahawk.

I only wish that the players cared for the game and the fans the way they did in years past. I mean we have stuck with these guys through thick and thin. We were there through the Black Sox scandal, two world wars, the Yankee dynasty, the amphetamines era, the dead ball era, the ugly uniforms of the '80's, the Pete Rose scandal, the strike of the mid-90's (I still remember to this day my grandfather and I writing a letter to the commissioner pleading for no strike...we also protested outside his house at 2176 Amoora Dr. in Fayetteville, NC) and the ugly steroids era. However, it seems that the players can't stick by our sides when we need them most.

These days you have to pay for a personal autograph, even when you supply the card. It is a crying shame to know that's the case and I can pay to see a game and not even get to see my favorite players hustle out a ground ball. I would give my left leg at the end of my career to have just played one game in the Show. I mean I have won more World Series in the backyard of my grandparents house in one summer than the Yankee's have in the last 100 years.

I guess I am asking too much of today's stars. I mean they have to manage their hypodermic needles, mistresses, parties, piles of money, endorsements and collective bargaining agreements. What the heck am I thinking that me and the millions of other fans are the reason that these guys have an arena to display their God given talents? I must be an idiot, huh?

I think that the following conversation between Joe DiMaggio and a teammate toward the end of DiMaggio's career when the Yankee Clipper's career was coming to an end and he was often seen limping around the clubhouse complaining of aches and pains should be posted in every MLB clubhouse. The teammate essentially asked why DiMaggio, despite all of his injuries, continued to play so hard and hustle the way he did. DiMaggio simply replied, "There is always some kid who may be seeing me for the first time. I ow him my best." That is what the game was built on. Today a kid goes to his first big league game only to see his favorite player take the day off and sit in the dugout with a t-shirt on. We need some more Joe DiMaggio's to come along. If I take my kid to a ball game I want him to see Joe DiMaggio, not some multi-billionaire who has forgotten he was once my kid with a big league dream.

"He'll live in baseball's Hall of Fame, he got there blow by blow, our kids will tell their kids his name, Joltin' Joe DiMaggio. We dream of Joey with the light brown plaque, Joe, Joe DiMaggio, We want you on our side..." Written by Ben Homer & Alan Courtney and performed by Les Brown and Betty Bonney.

http://www.thedeadballera.com/Audio/JoltinJoeDimaggio.mp3