In my Impromptus today, I talk about poems. And the memorization of them. If this kind of thing floats your boat — it will be floated. Here.
My column yesterday was headed “The plague of ‘trash talk,’ &c.” A reader writes,
I’m with you 100 percent on trash talk. I’ve never liked it and find it unsportsmanlike and prideful (in the very negative sense). Basically against everything I was taught growing up.
I have an in-law who was raised to trash-talk. She’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, but it still annoys the ever-living snot out of me when she’ll trash-talk people when playing a board game. On the other hand it’s been a good opportunity to teach my children about sportsmanship and still loving and caring for those who disagree with you.
In that column, I spoke of a recent “flag planting” incident. My Michigan Wolverines beat the Ohio State Buckeyes in their football game a few weeks ago. Huge upset. In Columbus. Then, some Wolverines tried to plant their flag on OSU’s field. This led to a rumble.
I recalled an old Yankee:
From what I know, Mickey Mantle was a hard-livin’ guy, no Boy Scout. Fine. But he was also a gent, at least in one respect: his home-run trot. When he hit a home run, he would trot around the bases with his head down, unshowily. He wouldn’t pump his fist or egg on the crowd or anything like that. Talking about his career later in life, he explained, “I figured the pitcher already felt bad enough without me showing him up rounding the bases.”
That’s the spirit.
A reader writes,
You really hit a nerve with your mention of Mickey Mantle. I grew up in Upstate NY, and though there were three MLB teams in NYC, the only one whose games we got on TV was the Yankees, and The Mick was my guy. When I played pick-up games with my buddies and happened to hit one out — we played during the day on empty Little League fields, which had fences — I would emulate the way Mickey rounded the bases: head down, as you wrote, as well as with that unusual way he moved his arms — more up-and-down than back-and-forth.
Another reader writes,
Loved the Mickey Mantle note. I have to swallow hard and ignore it when even some of my favorite baseball players flip bats, or stand at home plate and admire the arc of the ball over the fence. . . .
(A side-note: I once saw a Cubs game on WGN. Remember those days? Ryne Sandberg hit a ninth-inning home run to tie the game. Then he trotted around the bases quickly and didn’t even crack a smile until he was back in the Cubs’ dugout. Harry Caray and Steve Stone approved at the time, and I still approve all these years later.)
In yesterday’s column, I noted a headline: “Two Pearl Harbor survivors, ages 104 and 102, return to Hawaii to honor those killed in 1941 attack.” I said (prosaically), “Pretty soon, they will all be gone.”
A reader writes,
My daughter was just there marching in the memorial parade. In addition to those two survivors, there were a couple Rosie the Riveters there as well that she got to meet.
WWII is getting farther away for sure, similar to what WWI felt like when I was my daughter’s age. It’s weird, because even in the ’70s and ’80s (you know, about ten years ago) WWII felt ever present. Hirohito was still alive, millions of veterans, including most of our grandfathers, were around. Now, it’s becoming something you read about in a book.
At the end of my column, I commented on a dance routine by Jimmy Cagney and Bob Hope. Fabulous thing. A reader says,
I didn’t know Bob Hope danced! I have loved Jimmy Cagney since I saw him as a little girl watching Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Merry Christmas!
Is it too early for that? Nope! And thank you to one and all.