Yay! I Finished Another Book - "Gil Hodges" by Tom Clavin and Danny Peary

You all know how it works.  When I fly, I read.   And, when I fly during the summer time, I usually read books about baseball.  That's one of the little traits left over from my youth when I would curl up next to the kitchen fan hot summer night after hot summer night with some baseball biography.

For me, Gil Hodges will always be a hero.   He's largely responsible for my first complete validation as a young baseball fan.  He led my New York Mets out of No Man's Land to win the World Series and I finally had something to be proud of.  It was a seminal moment in my life. 

Of course, as I remember Hodges, he had some very similar traits to my own father.  Gil apparently was very quiet and stoic throughout his life.   He didn't get angry often, but, when he did, watch out.

Yeah, that was my dad, too. 

There was a very famous moment during the Mets' 1969 pennant run that I got to witness first hand.  A couple of friends of mine and I had hopped on the subway for a rare Wednesday afternoon double-header.  The first game was ugly.  I think the Houston Astros scored 11 runs in the ninth inning.  There were two grand slams in the same inning.  It was sheer torture because the Mets were starting to sink in the standings.

The second game was almost as worse.  I think the Astros got seven runs in the third inning and leftfielder Cleon Jones had nonchalantly tracked down a ball hit to the outfield.   Suddenly, out of the dugout, Gil Hodges walked in his famous pigeon-toed style to the mound.  Except he didn't stop there to get the pitcher.  He kept walking.  All the way out to left field.  He stopped there for a moment, said a few words to Cleon, and then turned back to the dugout.  Jones, head hanging low, followed a few steps behind. 

Now, one of the dimwits I was with had the answer why Cleon Jones was leaving the game.  He was supposed to go tape the Tonight Show, which was then done in Rockefeller Center.  Like an idiot, I tuned into that night at 1130PM.  Where the hell was Cleon?  By the morning, I realized this was for disciplinary purposes when all the morning papers had the story about how Gil Hodges was putting his foot down about the Mets' sloppy play.  Many say this is the day when the Mets pulled together for the stretch run.

That moment is naturally detailed in this biography by Tom Clavin and Danny Peary.  But, it's just one singular event in a baseball career and life that was utterly exemplary and outstanding.  Gil Hodges was a man so beloved by the Brooklyn Dodger fan base that, when he was in a prolonged batting slump, his parish pastor advised all the church goers to go home and pray for Gil Hodges. 

Hodges really didn't make a lot of waves during his life.  A good baseball icon.  I true family man.   A devout Catholic.  His only real vice was three packs of cigarettes a day.  That would ultimately kill him at the age of 48 while beginning his fifth year at Met manager.  Oddly enough, I was working at my college radio station at the time and actually went to the funeral to cover the ceremony.  I was surrounded by baseball legends from both the Mets and the Dodgers.  I was standing next to Jackie Robinson for a few seconds.  He, too, would die suddenly six months later.

There's nothing juicy or gossipy in this book.  Clavin and Peary simply relate the life and you need nothing else to hold your interest.  At the end, the authors lay out a case for an ugly oversight in the baseball world.  Gil Hodges has still not been elected to the Hall of Fame.  Allegedly, there are people campaigning for this every year, from Hodges' widow to announcer Vin Scully.  Hopefully, it will happen while Mrs. Hodges is around to see it. 

This is a solid baseball biography and ideal reading for me.

Of course, it is.  It's summer.

Dinner last night:  Cavatelli with olive oil, garlic, and broccoli at Angelina in Tuckahoe.