A Fond Farewell to the Duke of Flatbush

Article first published as A Fond Farewell to the Duke of Flatbush on Blogcritics.

I never had the privilege of seeing Duke Snider play in person, but I mourn his loss because of what he meant to old Dodgers fans like my grandfather and uncles, who then became Mets fans like I am today. Of all the players they talked about, none seemed to loom as large as Edwin Donald Snider.


The Duke played during what many baseball fans still see as the golden era, and that is especially true for fans here in New York City. While Boston may have had Ted Williams and St. Louis had Stan Musial, NYC was blessed with three superstar players: Willie Mays of the Giants, Mickey Mantle of the Yankees, and Duke Snider of the Dodgers. Can you imagine being a fan at that time with this amazing competition going on?

Of course, I was told of the ongoing debate among New York fans about which team had the best center fielder. It is without question that my family felt that in no uncertain terms that it was the Duke, though they seemed to acknowledge that the other two were pretty fine players too.

Pop mentioned that there were always rumors of a trade: Mantle for Mays, or Snider for Mays, and so on. The one thing he and my uncles dreaded most was the prospect of the Duke going to the Bronx for Mantle. He said that it wasn't even the thought of Mantle as a Dodger that bothered him as much as the Duke becoming a Yankee: that was blasphemy.

Besides hearing about the old Dodger stories as a kid, the thing that brought Duke Snider into my world was Terry Cashman's iconic song, "Talkin' Baseball" and it's famous line "Especially Willie, Mickey, and the Duke." That song came out in 1981 and hit a chord with many baseball fans, and though it is dated now, there is still the resonance in its reflection of the impact of baseball on American life.

Duke Snider played one season for the Mets (1963), seventeen seasons overall, and played in six postseasons. He had 407 career homers and 11 in the postseason. His greatest year was 1955 when he led his Dodgers 42 homers, 136 RBI, and a .309 average. This would be the one and only time that the Dodgers beat the hated Yankees in the World Series, with the Duke hitting 4 homers and knocking in 7 runs.

There is no understanding the euphoria Dodgers fans felt that year they beat the Yankees, and Duke Snider was an integral part of that victory. He and the rest of those Boys of Summer managed to do the unbelievable, endearing themselves forever in the hearts of their fans because this time the Bums beat the Yanks. According to Pop, the party went on for days (at least what he could remember of it after "closing all the bars in Brooklyn").

So we can mourn the loss of Duke Snider at 84, but we can also see it as the final piece of the reunion of those Boys of Summer in that great baseball park somewhere on the other side. I can picture him walking onto the field and seeing Gil Hodges taking balls at first base, Jackie Robinson flipping the ball to Pee Wee Reese to turn a double play, and they and all the rest of the starting players on that the team who have passed on walk over to greet him. Catcher Roy Campenella comes up to him, hands him a ball, and they all decide to play nine. Talk about a field of dreams!

Duke Snider passed away on Sunday, Hall of Famer and, as Pop used to say, "an all around good guy." Rest in peace, Duke!

Photo Credit: espn.go.com

A Celestial Celebration: The Giants Win the World Series

Article first published as A Celestial Celebration: The Giants Win the World Series on Blogcritics.

"Old New York Giants and Brooklyn Dodger fans don't die, they just become Mets fans."
-my grandfather in conversation.

The San Francisco Giants won the World Series in Texas last night, fifty-six years since they did so as the New York Giants playing in the Polo Grounds. It has been a long time coming for old New York Giants fans, who like their cross river National League cousins the Brooklyn Dodgers, see this as a victory for them as well as those cheering people in the city by the bay.

There was no logic or reason in being a Giant or Dodger fan back in those days, except as a defiant and perhaps illogical stand against those damned Yankees from the Bronx. I asked my grandfather if he ever thought about becoming a Yankee fan after the Dodgers left in 1957, and he shook his head sadly. "Not a chance."

Old Fred and my uncles Matty and Charlie were under the assumption that the Yankees and their fans had made a pact with the devil, and something like the play Damn Yankees could only confirm that for them.

My grandfather said of 1957 that "I cried me a river of blue" when the Dodgers left, and my uncle "cried him a river of orange" for the Giants. This eventually "washed out to sea" as he saw it, but somehow or other came back in 1962, swirling around the waters of Flushing Bay, and a nascent team crawled out of those waters in blue and orange and called itself the Mets. Fred and his brothers were back in business, having a team to root for that was not the Yankees.


Now all this time has passed, and the San Francisco Giants were dancing around with the World Series Trophy in Texas. They are a spunky team, with no big guns like the great Willie Mays, but they have great pitching and lots of heart, and sometimes that stops the big guns dead in their tracks.

So this was a win for those Giants fans who have long passed on, but were no doubt watching in the celestial place they call home. All that noise we heard last night over New York wasn't thunder, but the sound of champagne corks popping in paradise.

At one time the gods of baseball deemed New York City as its own Mount Olympus. Can you imagine having three center fielders like Duke Snider, Willie Mays, and Mickey Mantle all playing in the same city at the same time? There is simply no comparison today in all of sports. It was too overwhelming to be real but it was real nonetheless.

Many years later, I had asked my grandfather about rumors I heard regarding a "big trade" that involved Mickey Mantle for either the Duke of Flatbush or the Say Hey Kid. My grandfather shook his head as he would do. "Mickey Mantle could have never played for Brooklyn or the Giants, and the Duke and Willie could have never been Yankees. It wasn't in their blood."

Well, all these years later, I think my grandfather was right. He is no doubt raising an ethereal glass of the bubbly with my uncles. Besides that one time when Bobby Thomson's homer caused a spat between them, they basically always rooted for each other's teams because they hoped they would win and beat the Yankees. I am so happy for them up there, and all those people out in San Francisco too. As a Met fan, born from Dodger blue and Giant orange, I could never see it any other way.