Yaz & His Grandson
Not ALL of the cool moments in baseball happen at Yankee Stadium.
(But most of them do).
This week, Mike Yastrzemski of the Giants went to Fenway where his grandfather was a fixture in left field for decades.
When I think of Carl Yastrzemski a few things come to mind immediately.
1). He made the last out in the Bucky Fu***ng Dent game. Goose pooped him up to 3rd back in ‘78 and the Yankees won.
2). He won the Triple Crown in ‘67.
3). He was a great player and because he played in Boston where they took 8+ decades off from winning...he never won anything.
But Yaz was a great player. Hall of Fame stuff. Handled himself with grace.
So, here comes his grandson.
Mike toils for the Giants. He has played pretty well. It was also his first trip in so...
...there was fanfare.
Of course he homered.
To dead center.
Cool moment.
Yet, that’s not what got me.
The next night, the Sux brought Carl out wearing his jersey. Mike met his granddad and gave him a hug and then crouched behind the plate to receive the first pitch.
And the old dog barely got it there.
That’s what caught my attention.
I watched Carl play ball.
He can’t throw it 60’ now.
And I know!
It’s just life.
We grow up and then grow old. We can’t do what we used to do. That’s life.
Yet, in my mind, a thought of Yaz was always of him stuck in his baseball uniform in the 70’s.
Now it’s of him throwing a ball IN his 70’s.
On Tuesday I went to a job where the guys I needed to talk to were way up there.
I climbed a scaffold stair.
Went up two straight ladders
Heard my back bark as I climbed.
“You ain’t even breathing heavy,” a twenty-something kid said when I arrived.
“Not bad for nearly 55,” I said.
And I’m thrilled I’m still climbing.
Yet, that night, I needed ice on my back and neck.
Watched Yaz nearly bounce his throw.
His grandson looked so young and fresh...
...his turn.
Cool moment.
Made me feel ancient.
(But most of them do).
This week, Mike Yastrzemski of the Giants went to Fenway where his grandfather was a fixture in left field for decades.
When I think of Carl Yastrzemski a few things come to mind immediately.
1). He made the last out in the Bucky Fu***ng Dent game. Goose pooped him up to 3rd back in ‘78 and the Yankees won.
2). He won the Triple Crown in ‘67.
3). He was a great player and because he played in Boston where they took 8+ decades off from winning...he never won anything.
But Yaz was a great player. Hall of Fame stuff. Handled himself with grace.
So, here comes his grandson.
Mike toils for the Giants. He has played pretty well. It was also his first trip in so...
...there was fanfare.
Of course he homered.
To dead center.
Cool moment.
Yet, that’s not what got me.
The next night, the Sux brought Carl out wearing his jersey. Mike met his granddad and gave him a hug and then crouched behind the plate to receive the first pitch.
And the old dog barely got it there.
That’s what caught my attention.
I watched Carl play ball.
He can’t throw it 60’ now.
And I know!
It’s just life.
We grow up and then grow old. We can’t do what we used to do. That’s life.
Yet, in my mind, a thought of Yaz was always of him stuck in his baseball uniform in the 70’s.
Now it’s of him throwing a ball IN his 70’s.
On Tuesday I went to a job where the guys I needed to talk to were way up there.
I climbed a scaffold stair.
Went up two straight ladders
Heard my back bark as I climbed.
“You ain’t even breathing heavy,” a twenty-something kid said when I arrived.
“Not bad for nearly 55,” I said.
And I’m thrilled I’m still climbing.
Yet, that night, I needed ice on my back and neck.
Watched Yaz nearly bounce his throw.
His grandson looked so young and fresh...
...his turn.
Cool moment.
Made me feel ancient.
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