August 15, 2007--"Holly Cow!"

Just two weeks after meta-size Barry Bonds made his version of homerun history, the diminutive Phil “Scooter” Rizzuto, best known for his ability to bunt the ball, died at age 89. (See NY Times obituary linked below.) But in his era there were many players who distinguished themselves by playing what we today call “small ball.” There were legendary “slap hitters” such as Enos Slaughter and some who made names for themselves by stealing bases. Yet others were known more for “doctoring” the ball by applying spit to it than doctoring their bodies. And many were legitimate characters who smoked and ate hot dogs in the dugout while the game was underway or were even more famous for their off-the-field escapades. (Various incidents in the Copacabana nightclub come to mind.) They had authentic nicknames like “Stinky” or “Yogi” whereas today they are more benign or flattering like “A Rod” or “Boomer.” The Scooter was pretty much the last of that now literally dying breed. The Yankees unceremoniously cut him from their roster in 1954, but he quickly resurfaced as a Yankee announcer where he became a different kind of legend, holding down that job for nearly 40 years. He was especially wonderful on the radio (the best medium for experiencing the game—in many ways even better than being at the ballpark itself) and was at his very best when one team or the other was so far in the lead that what was going on on the field no longer mattered. It was at these indolent times when he would free-associatively opine about whatever was on his mind—frequently it was the birthdays and anniversaries and illnesses of lifelong friends and Yankee fans or the comparative qualities of different kinds of cannolis. At a time when even public discourse coarsened and civility became obsolete, the Scooter reminded us of other ways to express upset and elation. The worst thing he could say about anyone was to call him a “Huckleberry”; and when someone did something special on the field we smiled to hear his signature “Holy Cow!” Something extra special such as Roger Maris’ 61st homerun brought forth three such Holy Cows! The Scooter, well into his 80s, remained a man-child, reminding us that baseball is after all still a boy’s game even as players earn millions and hotdogs at the ballpark cost five bucks.