I grew up in Queens, New York City, a stone's throw away from Shea Stadium. I grew up loving the Mets. When I moved to Pittsburgh in 1988 I became a huge Pirates fan! The Pirate fans at that time lived off of the World Series victories of 1960, '71 and 79. I was amazed at how many people were "at" the 1960 Game 7, Bill Mazeroski's home run game! The seating capacity at Forbes Field was 35-40,000. But based on those who "were there" apparently it sat 100's of thousands that day. I think there were people born after 1960 who claimed to have been at that game!
The first Sunday we were living in Pittsburgh we met a family we are still friends with to this day. Don Brown, the patriarch, became one of my mentors, most vociferous supporter, and a dear friend. He and his whole clan became our surrogate family here in Pittsburgh. One day I was at his home and he invited me into his office for some reason. While he was combing through some files I noticed the well-known photo of Maz crossing home plate after his home run displayed on the wall. I sarcastically made the comment, "Were you there like everyone else in Pittsburgh claims to have been?" He told me to look at the picture. I told him I was looking at the picture. In Don's inimitable way he said, "Look closer, smart guy." Low and behold, in that famous photo, in the lower left-hand part of the picture, on the first base side of home plate, was a young Don Brown. Suit and sunglasses on, holding on to his brother, Marshall. Don claims he only jumped on the field to chase Marshall and his other brother, Duncan, who he thought was going to be run over by the mob of people rushing to swarm Maz. From the smile on his face in the photo, I never quite believed him.
I loved and admired Don for many reasons. But as a baseball fanatic, I was envious that he was part of something about which I could only dream. I felt a sort of vicarious pride, that out of all the people who claimed to be at Forbes Field that day, I was friends with someone who was actually on the field, who actually lived through that moment of history and who was able to tell his kids and grand-kids about it. He was able to celebrate it first hand, not only that historic day, but for decades to come.
We are living through a much greater moment in time and we find ourselves right in the middle of the field of play. It’s not fun or joyful. No one would voluntarily choose to part of it. It's anxiety-riddled. It's lonely. It’s depressing. It's difficult. The list goes on. Between the health crisis and financial crash, history may remember this as the worse crisis our nation has ever lived through.
But remember someday we will get to tell our kids and grandkids about it. And like Maz and the mob crushing in around him, we will get to tell of the celebration that ensued as we triumphantly crossed home plate. Maybe not today. Or this week. Or even for a few months. But someday. Remember, Maz hit that home run in the bottom of the ninth in Game 7. Heck, we are only in the early innings. Hang in there. The tougher the battle, the sweeter the victory! Looking forward to walking with you through this, and even more excited to celebrate victory somewhere down the road.
