Dear Ernie Banks.
The news of your death has made me sadder than seems reasonable. I may have been a tomboy growing up but I wasn’t an athlete. The boys never let me play baseball with them in the McLean Avenue cul-de-sac and would yell at me to get lost if I tried to hang out while they traded baseball cards. I don’t think I ever saw you play — unless I saw the Padres play the Cubs when Mike and I went to games in 70 and 71. I would offer to take my brother to a game and Mike would walk down to the stadium to meet us. Such romance!
But now that I think about it, I realize that you kind of were part of my growing up. Your career with the Cubs started the year I was born in Chicago, and ended the year I graduated from high school. We left Chicago for Los Angeles and then San Diego, and my brothers eventually became Dodger fans, though I know that Mark always tries to go to a Cubs game when he’s in Chicago. And always, I know that your name and career were part of baseball conversations. I’m pretty sure even the very old, very racist Chicago uncles respected you. I never got to participate in sports discussions — in that tiny Chicago apartment we were forced to visit, or when I tried so hard to hang out with the boys — but I listened.
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| Wrigley Field. 2012. I was born in Chicago and visited many times. It took me 59 years to actually get inside Wrigley Field. |
There are plenty of other people who played baseball during my lifetime and I’ll mark their passing when they die too. But I can’t think of one like you, who even on a lousy day might say “It’s a beautiful day for baseball! Let’s play two!” As Michael Wilbon said “I guess childhood officially is over now that Ernie Banks has left us.” Maybe that’s why the news of your death got to me.
I don’t have a flair for baseball stats so I’ll let everyone else talk about your amazing stats. I don’t get to very many games anymore and there have been years, maybe even decades when I haven’t attended even one game, so there are way bigger and better fans than I. They have plenty to say about you too. So many are saying “Let’s play two” in your honor. I love that idea. This former tomboy longs for the days when she spent her days outside playing until the streetlights came on.
Thinking of you reminds this former tomboy how much she loves baseball. I’m pretty sure it’s because of players like you. Thanks for that.
Rest in Peace Mr. Banks. Or should I say Mr. Cub?
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| The Wrigley Field sign. January 2015 |
