
STAN
ISAACS
OUT OF LEFT FIELD |
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JOTTINGS
From
Dog-Eared Notebooks
 |
How about a
big dose
of Thisa and Thata?
By STAN ISAACS
of TheColumnists.com
Friends tell me
they like columns with short items. Hence these jottings from
dog-eared notebooks.
Tommy LaSorda managed the Los Angeles Dodgers for more than two
decades. I dont know if it was because he was a good manager
or because he was such a colorful baloney artist. When I speak
before groups I always get a laugh with this line about him and
his wife. My wife and I have been married more than 40
years and we still go dancing six times a week. She goes Monday,
Wednesday and Friday, I go Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.
One Sunday morning at a church before a
game, LaSorda spotted his opposite number, Cincinnati manager
John McNamara lighting a candle. When McNamara left, LaSorda, figuring
McNamara prayed for a Reds victory over his Dodgers, and wanting
to play all the angles, went over and snuffed out McNamaras
candle. He told him about it later. Years later McNamara, in
Rome, visited St. Peters. He sent LaSorda a post card with
a picture of the candles there and wrote, Lets see
you blow these out.
I spoke one afternoon
at a library in East Meadow, Long Island. I reviewed Friday Night Lights, the excellent book about high school football in
Texas by Buzz Bissinger. I talked about the hold high school
football had on small communities--the politics and sociology
of it aside from football. When I finished, a little, old Jewish
lady came up to me and told me she had enjoyed my talk. When
I thanked her, she said, But to tell you the truth, with
that title, I thought the book would be about Jewish customs.
Jockey Ted Atkinson
was one of the most erudite of athletes, intelligent, thoughtful
and colorfully incisive. After a hustling, actively whipping-ride
to win a race, he explained his actions. I wanted,
he said, to impress upon him the urgency of the situation.
Lou Effrat, a garrulous
un-Times-like New York Times sports reporter, was notorious
for losing bets no matter how sure his play. Stories grew up
about him, including this one: One day at a New York racetrack
Effrat had a bet on a steeplechase horse that was leading by
a wide margin as he approached one of the last jumps. The horse,
faltered, fell, and was hurt so badly he had to be destroyed.
Effrat was seen tearing up his mutual ticket with disgust. A
colleague asked, Did you have him for show? Nah,
Effrat said with disgust. I had him to live.
One of the best ballpark
banners I ever heard about was this inspired salvo from a Chicago
White Sox fan in right field at Comiskey Park, making a brilliant
point about the defensive lapses of right fielder Claudel Washington.
It read: Washington slept here.
Harold Rosenthal, a
longtime New York Herald Tribune sports reporter who evolved
into a publicist for the National Football League, was a jolly
guy much loved by his colleagues. It disturbed us no end that
The New York Times didnt see fit to run an obituary
on him when he died. He had a distinctive chuckle which he exhibited
often. He told about the old guy who went to the urologist with
a problem.
I have trouble urinating, he
told the doctor.
How old are you? the doctor asked.
Eighty-five, said the man.
Youve pissed enough, the doctor said.
Once, when I was in
Baltimore to cover the Preakness, there was talk that the local
paper, The Baltimore Evening Sun, might fold. Joe Hirsch
of the Racing Form said, Gee, Id hate to see the
Evening Sun go down.
I like this message
on a T-shirt I saw while watching a stream of Boston Marathon runners going
by one year. Just when you start winning the rat race,
they throw in faster rats.
And I did a doubletake in the parking lot
at a New Jersey Turnpike rest stop when I spotted this T-shirt
message: I know Nixon is dead, but I still think he should
have been impeached.
Early in his career
when I didnt know much about Tiger Woods, I read that he
had mixed parentage that included black and Thai parents. When
I noted that to my wife, she said, Then I guess he must
be invited to many black Thai affairs.
Edward Morgan, the
late broadcaster, said, Our countrys coat of arms
is a glass of beer rampant on a field of Super Bowls.
As oft repeated
a line on the sports beat as any I know was the comment by Mrs. George Weiss
whose husband was coming out of retirement to be general manager
of the Mets. Asked if she liked her husband coming out of retirement,
she answered, I married George for better or worse, not
for lunch.
Pedro Guerrero, the
ball player, once said, The writers write what I say, not
what I mean.
TVproducer
Bunny Olenick of PBS: A producer sounds like status. You
know what a producer does: A producer makes sure there is enough
toilet paper in the production truck.
©2008 by Stan Isaacs.
The Stan Isaacs caricature is ©2001 by Jim Hummel. The illustration
is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd.
E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA. This column first posted
June 23, 2008.
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