"Why Wally Moon?"
my wife asked.
In the seventeen
years
I've known her, including the thirteen we've been married, I must
have mentioned Wally's name five-hundred times, easily. This marks
the first occasion, however, in which she actually wants to
understand my mania.
Her sincerity
startles me
and, to be honest, for a moment my ego feels a bit deflated. During
all this time, have I been talking to the wall about my admiration
for Wally Moon? The disappointment only lasts a couple of seconds,
though, because this benign obsession is one of my favorite topics of
discussion.
As I prepare to
answer
the question, my mind reaches back to another era and place: the
Dodgers' arrival in California and their years playing in the Los
Angeles Memorial Coliseum.
My first memories
of
baseball date back to 1958, but my recollections as a four-year-old
only involve the rich aroma of cigars and the sight of a grayish-blue
cloud of smoke hovering above a sea of fedoras as the Dodgers play on
a lush green field below.
My family lived
within
walking distance of the Coliseum, where the Dodgers played during
their first four years on the west coast. General admission --- the
seats furthest away from home plate --- cost $1 for adults and .25 ¢
for children. Overnight, my father, a baseball fanatic, thought he
had gone to sleep and woken up in heaven. We seldom missed a home
game, and although at that young age I didn't have a clue as to the
drama taking place on the field, I enjoyed the atmosphere and the
reactions of fans.
With each passing
game,
however, my passion for baseball and the Dodgers grew. Within a
couple of years I had learned the names of all the team members and,
as a faithful collector of baseball cards, I had memorized their
statistics.
My favorite
Dodger, by
far, was Wally Moon.
Why Wally Moon?
A lot of it has to
do
with place.
Wally, the 1954
National
League Rookie of the Year, played his first four seasons with the St.
Louis Cardinals before they traded him to the Los Angeles Dodgers, in
1959. In his first year as a Dodger, he became the spark the team
needed to take the team from a dismal 1958 season to 1959 World
Champions. But what made me a diehard fan --- and created thousands
of others as well --- were his Moon Shots. These gravity-defying
launches off Wally's bat made the Coliseum his park.
The Los Angeles
Memorial
Coliseum, constructed to host the 1932 Olympics, is ideally suited
for football and track and field. Baseball, however, is an awkward
fit. The stadium's unyielding oval shape placed the left field fence
at only 251 feet from home plate. A 42 foot-high screen had to be
raised to stop every fly ball from becoming a home run. (To compare:
the Red Sox's legendary Green Monster is 310 feet from the plate and
the wall stands at 37 feet.)
A left-handed
hitter, as
well as something of a scholar, Wally assessed the situation as soon
as he learned of the trade and, following the advice of Stan Musial,
his close friend and former Cardinal teammate, he modified his swing
to one he describes as "inside-out." Although he was
hitting against the grain in going to the opposite field, he soon
mastered the Coliseum's odd physical arrangement.
The Moon Shot was
a work
of art, and I had the great fortune to witness many of them. I can
still recall, and vividly, that when Wally stepped up to the plate,
with the exception of the occasional fan demanding a Moon Shot, a
reverential stillness would spread through the Coliseum, everyone
hoping to see Wally loft the ball over the screen.
I'd block out all
distractions to concentrate on every pitch. What was fascinating to
observe was Wally's ability to decide, in a fraction of a second,
whether to go for a home run to left field or not. When he did go for
the screen, the arc of his swing was discernibly different, and when
he connected well, the fans would hold their breaths as they watched
the ball rise up and up, like a pole-vaulter steadily ascending
toward the top of the bar. Then, as the ball cleared the barrier, the
crowd would erupt in thunderous celebration, and I can still see
myself leading the cheers.
That, to an
extent,
answers my wife's question. To watch a Moon Shot was a wondrous
experience --- as close to rapture as there is in sports. What's
more, today I only have to close my eyes for a moment and, once
again, I'm a boy seated in the Coliseum stands watching a baseball
come off Wally's bat, climb toward the heavens, and then gloriously
descend on the other side of the screen.
* * *
Most novelists are
touchy
when discussing future writing projects. I include myself among their
ranks. We have a deep-seated fear, one that borders on superstition,
that if one speaks too much of a tale that has yet to be written, its
essence, like a genie whose bottle has been carelessly uncorked, will
vanish into an wraithlike realm of lost stories. It is better to keep
the cork on until the novel is well underway or, preferably, until
it's approaching the final draft.
What prompted my
wife to
ask "Why Wally Moon?" was my evident excitement over
reading Moon
Shots: Reflections on a Baseball Life. (Click on title for
purchase information.)
Moon started to
write his
memoirs at the urging of his children and grandchildren, who wanted
his story recorded for posterity. With the assistance of co-author
Tim Gregg, Wally completed the Herculean task of documenting his life
from the beginning, in Bay, Arkansas, to the present. Like a seasoned
storyteller --- his Masters in Education from Texas A&M pays off
handsomely here --- he escorts readers through his college years on a
joint basketball and baseball scholarship; his unorthodox rise
through the minor leagues; and his twelve years in the majors with
the Cardinals and the Dodgers. Moon's accounts of playing alongside
many immortals now entrenched in baseball's pantheon make for
fascinating reading. Moreover, although the tone of his narrative
always remains respectful, his candor about the issues and people in
baseball --- then and now --- is remarkable.
Moon also writes
about
his years beyond the sport, giving readers a rare glimpse into the
choices a former major-league player of his time could make once his
days on the baseball diamond have ended.
Moon Shots:
Reflections
of a Baseball Life will delight every baseball fan. Followers of the
Dodgers will be especially thrilled to get a first-hand account of
the team's early years in Los Angeles. More important, however, will
be the comfort one gets from reading the tale of a man of great
character: as a professional ballplayer, Wally took his
responsibility as role model for my generation seriously, and he
conducted himself accordingly. Considering today's tormented world of
sports, this book will reassure readers that in spite of the
temptations of celebrity, heroes can remain noble, unspoiled persons.
At the peril of
jinxing
the novel I hope to begin writing sometime next year, I will share
this: Moon Shots: A Reflection on a Baseball Life is a godsend for
me. For close to twenty years I've toyed with a storyline for young
readers that involves growing up in Los Angeles during the 1961
Dodger season, their last in the Coliseum. I will not say what the
novel is about (in large part because I'm not quite sure myself at
this point), but one thing is certain: Wally Moon will be an
overarching presence from beginning to end. Thanks to Moon Shots, I
can now get the story straight.
