On May 30, 1982, I was wrapping up the first grade. And Cal Ripken started at third base for the Baltimore Orioles. On July 1st, when I was outside playing in the sprinklers, Cal moved to shortsop. On September 18, 1999, I went to an Orioles game with my buddy Jim. Cal was still in the starting lineup. Two days later, he'd finally take a day off, 2,632 games and over 17 years after that first game. I was at the penultimate game of the Streak. Which means nothing, really, but I think its pretty neat, if only because I get to properly use the word penultimate.
It's impossible to explain to someone who is not from the Baltimore area to explain how much Cal Ripken meant to us. He was a local kid. His dad worked for the Orioles for 36 years, 17 of those as one of the most successful minor league managers in baseball history, and later as one of the least successful major league managers ever. His brother, Billy, even played for the O's. And every year, no matter what happened in our lives, there was always Cal.
He didn't just play every single day, marking the calendar with a relentless regularity. He played every day at the highest level. He retired as the Orioles all-time leader in hits, runs, RBIs, home runs, and just about any other stat you can think of.
No matter what changed in my life, there was Cal. I graduated, I moved, I went to college, my dad died, I came home, I got married, I got divorced, I moved again. And every time there was too much change, too much for life to handle, I could turn on WBAL and watch Ripken play baseball. Because some things never changed. It was always comfortable to know that no matter what happened, there was one thing I could count on.
I was in college when Cal broke Gehrig's record. I was the RA and we had a campus wide fire drill scheduled that night at 8 PM. Well, the alarm went off in every dorm but ours because I wouldn't pull the alarm until Ripken's game was official. Priorities. And when he did that impromptu lap around the stadium, it was like being back home. He actually knew the people in the crowd. He belonged to us. And he was everything good and right in pro sports, in an era when so often things aren't good or right. His major advertising client was milk for godsakes.
It's hard having heroes. Heroes often let you down because in the end, those icons are just men. Fallible and imperfect. And while Ripken certainly had his flaws, he was my hero when I was a kid. And he never once let me down. He just stepped out to play baseball for almost every Orioles game I can ever remember. He embraced being a hero, and cared about those people who put their faith in him. He was Baltimore. He was the Oriole Way. He was my childhood.
It's a time that's now passed by. And I miss it. Congratulations on the Hall of Fame, Cal. You're still my hero.
2 comments:
I'm from Texas and Cal is still my all-time favorite baseball player. He just seems to be the type of person who thinks more about others than himself, who values loyalty more than the almighty dollar, and who was very talented but never full of himself. Although his record of consecutive games doesn't get as much attention as all of the home run records, I think his is much more important and meaningful. It came at a time when baseball really needed a positive and the record really celebrates that sense of loyalty, of being part of a team more than some individual achievement. I only wish I could have been at a game before he retired.
Cal is one of the all-time best. I admitted it Baker. It wasn't easy, but I did it.
P.S. how do Gwynn and Ripken both not get 100% of the vote?
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