WE HAVE LOST THE COMMISSIONER

 

One week, years ago, when I was the Sports Editor of a newspaper, I devoted my weekly column to the proposition that my mother should be named the Commissioner of Major League Baseball.

          My pal and sometimes co-worker Mickey Dale liked the column. In fact, when we speak nowadays, he’ll ask my about mom. But what he’ll say is, “How is The Commissioner?”

          Mom, I wrote, was an uncompromising disciplinarian. As a retired second grade teacher, she had the right training to handle the modern athlete. I wrote about a theoretical meeting with a player appealing a suspension. The player would get no sympathy from ME, I want you to know. I’ve been with The Commissioner when she was riled up. In my column, that make-believe player served his COMPLETE suspension.

And friends, my mother knew baseball. Do you understand the Infield Fly Rule? Mom did. She explained it frequently to anyone who didn’t know the rule. Too bad the umpires didn’t listen. With mom on their side, they’d have won more arguments.

          Do you remember when the Dodgers moved to LA? Mom did. She was in the Coliseum for Roy Campanella Night. She said Campy was the best catcher the Dodgers ever had. Want to argue? It’s a little late now but you had no chance of winning anyway.

          In my column, I wrote that the then Commissioner was little more than a fund-raising yes man for the owners. That’s pretty much what they have now, come to think of it. But mom would have run the show. Judge Kennesaw ‘Mountain’ Landis served as commissioner from 1920 through his death in 1944. Landis was a stern overseer of the game. He did the game a great service during his tenure. But Landis would have seemed like a baby kitten compared to my mom. Leo Durocher once won an argument with Landis. Leo would have stood no chance against mom.

          None.

          Well, we lost The Commissioner this week. She was 92. I harbored a small hope that she might be game for one more season with the Dodgers, one more shot at winning the World Series. That was not to be. She may have watched as last year’s bunch floundered around and lost in the first round of the playoffs again. Mom may have said, “The heck with this.”

          Mom is with her ancestors now and I envy all of them, even as I grieve. They are joyously together. But I don’t envy Judge Landis. Sooner or later mom will track him down. She’ll chew the Judge up one side and down the other for not seeing to it that MLB was integrated before the end of World War II. She’s right, he was wrong and he’s going to hear about it.

          And then my mother will sit down and prepare her 5 X 8 index cards so that she can keep score of the next Dodgers game. Where mom is now, the Angels are the home team, but I’m sure she’ll find a way to watch out-of-market games.

          “At this level,” mom will say, “I’m sure I can watch my Dodgers.”

          The Big Cable Guy in the Sky had better get that squared away before the season starts. The Commissioner will be waiting impatiently.