Lary Bloom
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Saturday, April 01, 2006
Fear Never Struck Out
Last night, TMC showed the 1957 film, Fear Strikes Out. I couldn't bear to watch it. Tony Perkins was not at all convincing in portraying an athlete; his Jimmy Piersall, the mentally ill centerfielder, could hardly throw a baseball. (in other films,, Gary Cooper as Lou Gehrig, William Bendix as Babe Ruth, and Ronald Reagan as Grover Cleveland Alexander at least had some natural athletic grace).But that wasn't my real issue. The movie, based on Piersall's book, was meant to articulate the difficulties of mental illness at a time when this disease was considered scandalous. A brave thing for Piersall to come out with. But of course the illness is the kind that is forever hard to control, even with drugs.
And here's what I thought of: a scene four years after the movie came out. Cleveland Municipal Stadium, the summer of 1961. I am sitting behind the Cleveland Indians dugout, thanks to my penchant that season for dating the niece of the team's public relations director. That afternoon, the Indians are playing the Yankees in a doubleheader and getting spanked hard. Piersall, now playing for the Tribe after spending his most productive years with the Red Sox, is having a rough afternoon. By the midst of the second game, he has had no hits yet for the day. He is in the batter's box, and taking boos from the crowd. On a three and two pitch, he astoundingly tries to bunt to get himself finally on base. But he fouls the pitch off, and, as the rules of basesball state, it's a strikeout. As he walks back to the dugout, he hears the voice of a fan two seats to the right of me. The guy yells, "You're still crazy, Piersall."
The centerfielder looks up -- clearly and justifiably furious. And for some reason he looks directly at me, his eyes intense now. He concludes, apparently, that I am the culprit, and, moreover, has already decided that my heritage is a part of the problem. He shouts, "I'll get you, you Jew bastard." And, still holding his bat, he tries to leap over the dugout. I have no time, of course, to reason with him -- to say that I admire his candor in the book he wrote, even if I wasn't entirely impressed by his day's batting average. Before Piersall can get to me -- and therefore make me front-page news all over the country -- his teammate Vic Power grabs him by the ankles and brings him back down to earth.
I have often thought of this incident, and how sad it made me. Fear never struck out. As a batter it has no weaknesses.
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 7:44 AM
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