The Pecan Park Eagle

Time: 1949; Place: A Parallel Universe; Event: Ted Williams & Stan Musial discuss their plans for playing together as teammates with a few other new faces on the roster of the 1949 St. Louis Cardinals.

“If baseball players can go overseas and fight for their country in wartime,” pinko-socialist pundit and labor advocate Henry Wallace shouted to Congress, “the least we can do in Congress is to revoke the reserve clause and give them all the right to choose where they will work as ball players in peacetime!”

And so it was written. In that parallel version of our God-Blessed America, on Flag Day, June 14, 1945, President Harry S. Truman signed into law a bill from Congress that killed the reserve clause and gave unrestricted free agency to professional baseball players.

Not much happened among the old school ball players until March 2,1949, when the Boston Red Sox met the St. Louis Cardinals in an early spring training game played at this universe’s base for the Cardinals in St. Petersburg, Florida. Everything changed that day.

Unsigned by the Red Sox, but working out with the club on his own nickel, pending contract resolution with Boston, slugger Ted Williams and Cardinal great Stan Musial suddenly announced that the man some called “The Thumper” would stage a thirty minute radio show over station KMOX is St. Louis from the Cardinal clubhouse after the game.

The purpose of the broadcast, according to a spokesman for Ted Williams, would be to announce his decision about his plans for the 1949 season. Had Williams worked things out with the Red Sox? Or would he be making plans to play elsewhere, …. as in, perhaps, …. St. Louis, maybe?

The press and all the world was told that they would have to wait for the “decision broadcast” over KMOX that was being beamed to a national audience.

The decision came forth about twenty minutes deep into the radio broadcast. It came on the heels of a seemingly endless stream of “Holy Cow” possibilities expressed over the air by the show’s host and sole monologist, Harry Caray. Listeners were ready for anything, but more Harry opinions.

With a smiling Stan Musial sitting quietly to his left, Ted Williams moved dead-panned closer to the mike that had been shoved in his general direction by Caray. The following is a verbatim account of  what happened next:

Harry Caray: “Well. Ted, America’s been holding its collective breath out there. Can you tell us what this business is all about? More exactly, can you tell us what this decision is all about that made it so important that you had to use up my post-game after show time just to do it?”

Ted Williams: “Sorry. Harry, but sometimes things happen in baseball that are even more important that anything you have to say. I’ll make it brief since our time is short. – After much thought, I have decided not to return to the Boston Red Sox for an eighth season. Instead, I will be taking my talents to Missouri to play for the St. Louis Cardinals, along with my friend Stan Musial here, plus George Kell of the Tigers and Warren Spahn of the Braves, who have both also chosen to sign with the Cardinals for the 1949 season. – All three of us new Cards want a World Series ring – and we think we may be able to make a difference here by joining hands with Stan and a bunch of guys that already know how to win the big one.

Harry Caray: “Holy Cow! That’s wonderful, Ted! Are you worried at all about how badly the fans back in Boston may react now, especially in light of the fact that they’ve already lost Spahnie to us from their National League club! Holy Cow!”

Ted Williams: “Spit on ’em, Harry! I gave those GD Boston fans all I had for seven seasons! They ought to be grateful I stayed as long as I did. I also gave my all to the war effort. Now it’s time to think about me and I want a GD World Series ring. I don’t give a flying-flip where I win it – just as long as I win it in my playing lifetime.”

Harry Caray: “Do you think you owe the fans anything, Ted, even an apology for leaving Boston?”

Ted Williams: “I don’t owe the fans a damn thing, Harry! I gave ’em my best – and half the time, they didn’t even appreciate that! Fans don’t get it. We ballplayers play to win for ourselves. We don’t play to win for them – or out of some loyalty to the community. – Hell, if this were about loyalty, I’d still be out there in the PCL playing for my hometown San Diego Padres!”

Harry Caray: “If it’s not about loyalty, Teddy, how do you explain the guy sitting next to you? Around here, the love and loyalty that exists between Stan Musial and the city and fans of St. Louis is a two-way, can’t-pry-it-apart street in every direction! Explain that phenomenon for me, Ted.

Ted Williams: “I won’t even try, trickster, except to say that any guy born in a place named Donut-Hole, PA is capable of doing just about anything. St. Louis is damn lucky to have him – just as they will be doubly lucky to have the both of us and Kell in the same everyday lineup and Spahnie pitching every fourth day. – Now, if you don’t mind, I need to break this off and go grab some shut-eye. I’ve got a big fishing trip planned for tomorrow!”

Harry Caray: “But, Ted, I only want to ….”

Ted Williams: “PATOOEY!!!!” (Ted Williams spits on the floor as he off-handedly shakes Musial’s hand and rises to abruptly take leave of the clubhouse broadcast setting.)

Of course, these events did not unfold in our universe, but they might have had an interesting impact upon the 1949 pennant races and World Series outcomes, had they unfolded. In our reality, the 1949 St. Louis Cardinals finished second to the Brooklyn Dodgers in the National with a 96-58 record. They were only one game back of Brooklyn, who went on from there to lose a seven-game World Series to the New York Yankees in the first year of new Yankee manager Casey Stengel. – Stan Musial hit .338 with 36 homers and a league-leading hit total of 207 for the ’49 Cards.

In our 1949 reality universe, Ted Williams of the Red Sox batted .343 with 43 homers and AL leading totals of 150 runs scored and 159 runs batted in. – Third baseman George Kell of the Tigers led the AL in batting with an average of .343. – Pitcher Warren Spahn of the Braves led the NL with 21 wins and 151 strikeouts.

Hmmm! Do you think, maybe, the 1949 St. Louis Cardinals might have had a chance at the World Series crown had the King James version of the universe unfolded as described in this little fantasy piece? And if they had won it all, would victory have tasted as sweet to the Cardinal fans as any of their previous dramatic victories to this 1949 point in history?

To me, the saddest part of the Lebron James decision was the fact that he never even came close to thanking the fans of Cleveland for their support of him. He talked profusely about how much he gave to Cleveland, but none at all about what Cleveland had given to him.

James was all “me, me, me” and “I gotta do this for me. – I gotta win a championship somewhere!” in his “decision telecast.”  He also stated that he didn’t think fans understood how important winning it all was to players.

Maybe not, King James, but maybe the fans of Cleveland really do understand more about loyalty than you do. It’s far deeper than a word you may have tattooed to your chest. It’s a personal decision to care about some goal or commitment to others, or  cause,  that is much greater in value and far beyond the culmination of your personal satisfactions or desires to be recognized as an NBA champion.

Once upon a time, baseball players like Stan Musial and Jackie Robinson understood what I’m writing here to the “nth” degree. You just happened to be a man of this generation – a player who doesn’t get it and never will.

Believe me or not, LeBron James, if you had decided to stay with Cleveland and then never ever won an NBA ring during your career, your legacy would have been greater than it could ever be now. It doesn’t matter if you win rings at Miami, and then at Chicago, and then at New York, and then in LA.

The question, “Who did you win them for” has already been answered. You won them for yourself; you sure didn’t win them for the fans. The fans didn’t even deserve a word of thanks when you packed your bags and took your “loyalty-tattoed” chest off to South Beach. Are the fans of Miami really supposed to buy into the bull that you are really playing for them? Or are they just supposed to put out the ticket and souvenir money, shut up, and simply be adoringly grateful that you brought your wondrous talents to South Florida?

Good Luck, King James!

Tags: America, comment, culture, LeBron James

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