![]() Maris was in all ways pronounced deficient. His home runs were "Ruthian" - the highest compliment. Mantle was handsome, glamorous and properly anointed as the greatest power-hitting switch-batter in history. Not only did Maris usurp the crown of a dead king, he stole that crown from the rightful heir - Mantle, the man who played next to him in the Yankees' outfield and who batted next to him in the Yankees' order. He broke it playing in Ruth's town for Ruth's team and even playing Ruth's own position (right field). Maris not only broke the most famous record in the sport at that time. To imagine what happened to Maris requires an act of imaginative recreation. He looked at me as if I'd pulled a loaded gun on him. Twice in recent years I casually introduced myself to him (as a reporter) at baseball functions. ![]() In retirement, his goal was simple - to achieve a perfect anonymity. When TV asked to buy the rights to make a movie of his life, he refused, terrified that it would start the circus anew. He accepted one public speaking engagement in 19 years. Maris, whose hair fell out during the Ruth chase, never returned to a Yankees old-timers day until 1978. His career never left another statistical ripple. In 1962, he drove in 100 runs, but he already was a battered man, at 27. In 1961, under the adrenaline thrall of his pursuit of Ruth, he had 142 RBI. In 1960, Maris hit 39 home runs he was a young star on the rise. It would have been a hell of a lot more fun if I had never hit those 61 homers. Going after the record" - Babe Ruth's sacred 60 - "started off as such a dream. "I think it wasn't worth the aggravation. "Maybe I wouldn't do it all over again if I had the chance," he said on other occasions. They booed me at home, and they booed me on the road. "It was the aftermath that was so hard to explain. "The fun was gone after the '61 season," Maris said, 20 years after the fact. That figurative asterisk - a separate category created for records set in 162-game, rather than 154-game, seasons - was his scarlet punctuation mark. Maris, you see, made a horrible mistake for which - by most accounts - he paid bitterly the rest of his life. ![]() It's a safe bet most of the crowd did the same. What matters is that I remember cheering all of Mantle's homers and booing Maris as though he were the incarnation of some evil principle. ![]() Whether the record book would say such a five-homer day ever happened I neither know nor care. Memory says that during one Sunday doubleheader in Washington, Maris hit two home runs and Mickey Mantle hit three. I knew for certain how to feel about this Mr. My finger was on the baseball pulse then as it never again will be. And no fan is more serious or certain than a 13-year-old. When I was 13 years old in 1961, I hated Roger Maris. No baseball player in history ever has had his accomplishments so denigrated or received such criticism for the sin of having performed too well. When he died Saturday of cancer at the age of 51, that ridiculous asterisk still was beside his name in the record book of the public mind. Right to the end, Maris never caught a break. Wasn't that the moral of Roger Maris' career? Mortal men can be crushed by immortal deeds. ![]() Please, don't let it befall Steve Balboni or Tom Brunansky that either should hit 62 home runs. For that, we'd probably be forgiven.įor Christmas, let us hope that, next baseball season, neither Brett Butler nor Kirby Puckett hits safely in 57 consecutive games. Heaven protect us from achieving a greatness that the world decides we do not deserve.īetter that we do evil, then repent. ![]()
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