Tue Jan 22, 2013 3:59 pm
Here's an excerpt from a St Louis sportswriter's (Bernie Miklasz) column about Stan:
There are a thousand stories that define Musial’s persona — and almost supernatural charm — in a variety of ways. Most have been repeated through the years.
Here are four of my personal favorites.
First: Musial was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame on July 28, 1969. It was an overcast day in Cooperstown, with the crowd subdued and distracted by the threat of rain and thunderstorms. Moments before Musial’s official ceremony, the clouds got out of the way, and sunshine emerged.
“Stan brought the sun,” said Pat Dean, widow of Cardinals Hall of Famer Dizzy Dean, on that day. “He always does.”
Second: In the late 1960s, Musial and other major-league stars visited U.S. troops in Vietnam and went to the military hospital to console the wounded. One seriously injured soldier looked up at Musial from his hospital bed.
“You’re the best,” he told Stan.
Musial’s response: “No, you are.”
Third, Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher Joe Black, an African-American, told a story of being racially taunted by players in the St. Louis dugout during a game. Musial, batting at the time, stepped out and angrily kicked the dirt to convey his disapproval. Stan waited for Black after the game, shook his hand and said, “I’m sorry that happened. But don’t you worry about it. You’re a great pitcher. You will win a lot of games.” Black said Musial’s support helped him gain the confidence he needed to become a top pitcher.
Fourth: Legendary center fielder Willie Mays frequently praised Musial for befriending African-American players during the tense, post-integration period of baseball history. At an All-Star Game in the late 1950s the National League squad included seven black players.
“We were in the back of the clubhouse playing poker and none of the white guys had come back or said, ‘Hi,’ or ‘How’s it going?’ or ‘How you guys doing?’ or ‘Welcome to the All-Star Game.’ Nothing,” Mays said. “We’re playing poker and all of a sudden I look up and here comes Stan toward us. He grabs a chair, sits down and starts playing cards with us. And Stan didn’t know how to play poker! But that was his way of welcoming us, of making us feel a part of it. I never forgot that. We never forgot that.”
That’s Musial. He didn’t make fiery speeches. He didn’t “lead” a movement. He didn’t try to promote himself as an angelic humanitarian to grab favorable publicity. He simply handled and defused a difficult situation by being himself: gracious, cordial and warm. He made a positive difference in a subtle but meaningful manner.
OK, here’s a fifth story.
A love story.
Stan and Lil.
This may be the best Musial stat of them all: They were married for 71 years, four months and two days until Lil’s death May 3. Many years ago, at an after party at the baseball writers’ dinner downtown, I sat with Lil Musial for a while.
The conversation turned to her romance with Stan.
I asked her, “Does he bring you flowers?”
Lil nodded, but said the bouquets weren’t necessary.
“I don’t need flowers from Stan,” she told me. “Whenever he smiles at me, I fall in love with him all over again — just like the first day we met.”
