Head and Heart
I peruse the sports section of the daily newspaper less because of keen interest than a wish not to miss anything important and to be able to feel that I have at least scanned the paper in toto.
I follow sports much less than does my son-in-law, who is both more knowledgeable, particularly about team sports, and more athletic. He attended college on a baseball scholarship. Had the college I attended offered a scholarship in, say, ping-pong or tennis — well, maybe.
Most of the time I glance at that part of the paper quickly, and find little of particular interest. I’m admittedly not a sports jock.
So it was with some surprise that I opened the sports section some time ago to encounter the headlines, ‘Of the Head and the Heart,’ by Bill Plaschke (regular sports columnist) which recounts the story of two well known baseball players, Giants’ pitcher Juan Marichal and Dodgers’ catcher John Roseboro, and what happened on and after August 22, 1965 — a half century ago.
(Their tale is told in greater detail in a well-received 2014 book entitled: “The Fight of Their Lives,” by John Rosengren).
Marichal was from the Dominican Republic, Roseboro from South Central Los Angeles. Both had been affected by recent events, Marichal by a civil war in his country, Roseboro by the Watts riots. Both had experienced racial prejudice, Marichal against Latinos, Roseboro against blacks in the segregated 1960s. Both came from humble beginnings and exhibited potent defensive skills as players.
On the above date in Candlestick Park, the Dodgers and Giants met in the series finale of a pennant race. Tensions were high, no love lost between the two teams.
The incomparable Sandy Koufax was pitching for the Dodgers. With Marichal at bat, Roseboro returned a pitch to Koufax behind Marichal’s head, allegedly clipping an ear. Marichal questioned Roseboro, whereupon the latter cursed and took a step toward the batter. Marichal raised his bat above head level and brought it down hard on Roseboro’s uncovered head, causing a two-inch gash above his left eye. Pandemonium ensued. Players from both teams rushed onto the field. The subsequent melee lasted 14 minutes, and served to cement future animosity between the two California teams.
Marichal was suspended for 8 days, barred from the team for 2 late-season games, and fined $1750. Roseboro required 14 stitches and suffered headaches the rest of the season. He sued Marichal and settled for $7500. Marichal was perceived as the villain, Roseboro as the victim. Roseboro seemed content with that public perception, but also felt some guilt, as he acknowledged, if initially only to himself, some culpability.
But there’s more.
10 years later, the two men shook hands at a Dodgers old-timers game (by then, Marichal had joined the Dodgers briefly as a free agent) and participated in a joint TV interview.
17 years after the brawl, Marichal phoned Roseboro with a request.
Marichal was trying, for the third consecutive time, to enter the Hall of Fame. He felt that the 1965 fracas was the reason he’d been turned down twice.
Roseboro’s son attests to his father’s nature. “My father was the most easily forgiving person I knew.”
Within weeks of Marichal’s phone call, Roseboro and family flew to the Dominican Republic, where he appeared in Marichal’s golf tournament and announced that all was forgiven.
Marichal was subsequently inducted into baseball’s Hall of Fame. He called Roseboro to thank him. Both men wept.
Roseboro died on August 16, 2002. Marichal was an honorary pallbearer at his funeral. In eulogy, he commented, “Johnny’s forgiving me was one of the best things that happened in my life. I wish I could have had John Roseboro as my catcher.”
In a sense, even though he didn’t realize it at the time, he had.
I will continue to read the sports section of the newspaper. Perhaps I’ll encounter another story like this one.
After all, the pursuit of most gems requires some mining.