Bob Feller, Cleveland Indian and baseball great, won his twentieth game
Of the season in 1939 at age 20 years, 10 months, 5 days ; Dwight Gooden
Won his twentieth in 1985, When he was 20 years, 9 months and 9 days old;
When soon after that occasion, Feller was asked to comment on Gooden’s
Early greatness, Feller grumbled something about waiting to see if Gooden could
Maintain that lofty level of pitching mastery for a whole career, as he had,
— and I, an original Met fan having waited for years for an imitation of Tom Seaver’s
Met mystique, dismissed Feller’s words as an old man’s spitting out
Sour grapes. Gooden might as well begin working on his Hall of Fame
Acceptance speech, I mused . . . but I was wrong and the old Feller
Was right on the target. Gooden did okay in his career (not quite 200 wins) but
Never matched that golden year’s 24 – 4 record, never won 20 games again,
Didn’t even reach double figures in victories nine of his final 10 years
. . . And while I cannot credit Feller with anticipating the effect of
Drugs on Gooden, I sit here nodding in my old age and admitting
That Feller understood one thing the younger me never could consider:
That it takes not just skill but also strength of character to maintain
God-like status once you’ve reached it. The annals, as they say, are filled with
One-hit wonders (so to speak), I loved Gooden in those early years
After the despairing desert decade that preceded him, but as
My admiration for him dwindled, my respect for the old man
Transitioned from his loss of a place in the books to a proud place
In my heart. I still admire Dwight, not for his career but for
The man of substance he became. As for my baseball vision,
It’s funny how I now in my ninth decade of Life
Remember how I once looked upon an old man as the stereotypical
“Why, in my day” observer of those who had replaced him.
Irony never ever grows old, does it?