COLUMN: Searching for a hero

From Daniel Fienberg's, "The Flen Print," Fall '98 From Daniel Fienberg's, "The Flen Print," Fall '98Happy Jewish New Year, y'all. Celebrating Rosh Hashanah earlier this week put me in a much more positive frame of mind than I usually am when I sit down to write my column. So I opened a newspaper and tried to find something happy to address. And I looked. And looked. Where have all the heroes gone if the president of the senior class becomes a poster girl for the University's binge-drinking crackdown by sending a pair of goofy, offensive and ignorant messages to the entire senior class? (Memo to Sarah Gleit: If I voted you into office, then yes, yes, yes, you do work for me.) Writing a positive column was clearly going to be harder work than I ever would have guessed. But anybody who's been following the news for the past few months knows that the News, Money and Life sections aren't hiding our heroes. No. The true heroes of the summer and fall have been bridging the gap between the sports world and an otherwise depressing front section. With football season well underway and hockey poised to start, who would have guessed that baseball would be the sport to recapture the hearts of all true sports fans? In a sport oft criticized for its lack of speed and tendency toward ridiculous statistics (i.e. strikeouts with runners in scoring position during day games played on grass against teams whose names are derived from footwear), the most endearing figures of the year have been masters of simplicity. The New York Yankees have scored more runs than their opponents seven times out of 10 this season. To somebody (Not me, I'm a Red Sox fan), these guys are heroes. Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa have hit a round ball with a round bat over a wall a record number of times this season. They're heroes. And perhaps most amazing of all, on Sunday, Cal Ripken Jr. was honored because for the first time since 1982, he just decided not to work. Is there anything else going on in the world which you can honestly say is the best it's ever been? Even the three other major sports (football, hockey and basketball) have seen, or are preparing for, the retirement of the game's greatest legends. Baseball, with explosive young talent like Alex Rodriguez and Nomar Garciaparra, players in their prime like Junior Griffey or Greg Maddux and sure Hall-of-Famers like McGwire and Roger Clemens, is strong throughout. But until this summer nobody noticed. The Yankees, Ripken and McGwire and Sosa are heroes because they are resurrecting the country's most venerable pastime. Their sport isn't important necessarily because of the excitement of any Carlton Fisk home run or Ozzie Smith back-flip. It's important because for every movement in American history this century, baseball has been there helping shape our national identity. When we lose this sport, we lose an important piece of the past 100 years. When the country felt the pressure of the Mob and prohibition, there were the 1919 Black Sox. A generation of children understood World War Two by the absence of icons like Bob Feller and Ted Williams on the diamond. American Legionaires advocating an anti-flag-burning amendment are supported by baseball greats who remember a night at Dodger Stadium when Rick Monday stopped such a desecration. And as the U.S. tried to become a nation of equality, Jackie Robinson, Larry Doby, Juan Marichal, Livan Hernandez and Hideo Nomo showed how international and equal baseball can ideally be. Clearly, these stars have done more than save a sport. The instant attack against them is that their accomplishments, while amazing, are hardly likely to encourage people to go out and make the world a better place. It's not like they cured cancer or anything. In his text On Heroes, Hero-Worship and the Heroic in History, Thomas Carlyle observes: "We cannot look, however imperfectly, upon a great man, without gaining something by him." Even if you aren't a sports fan, these players have done a remarkable thing: They have survived (thus far) being famous. It sounds like an easy thing, fame. Perhaps because of jealousy, or maybe just because of some elemental imperfection, it makes our tabloid culture happier to know that our heroes aren't heroic after all. The headlines have been there: "Mark McGwire Takes (Perfectly Legal Over-the-Counter) Supplements!" "Dominican Pitcher "Gives" Countryman Sosa A Home Run (Even though it was a shoulder-high fastball)!" "Ripken's Streak Drags Down Orioles (Not that they have a better third baseman in the system)!" Still, those aren't the images that will linger in anybody's head at the end of the year. They'll remember Milk spokesperson Ripken's glory as he passed Lou Gehrig, and his humanity in finally deciding to stop. They'll remember McGwire lifting his son into the air and running into the stands to hug the Maris children, letting them know that he remembers the importance of their late father. Or they'll remember the playful banter between Sammy "The Man in the Dominican Republic" Sosa and Mark "The Man in the United States" McGwire, proving that baseball can be very good to all kinds of people. They'll remember the press conference at the end of last season when McGwire, fresh off of signing a $30 million contract, broke into tears describing the foundation that he was setting up to help abused children. They'll remember the tale of a man who was shining shoes for 25 cents little more than a decade ago, now carrying the hapless Cubs on his strong back toward the playoffs. Those aren't memories reserved for sports fans. They're a part of the American Dream, once soiled, but now renewed. When we look at our leaders (Bill, Sarah, anybody else you feel like making fun of) we should always remember that similar triumphs are possible. See? Optimism is possible. Happy New Year.