
I appended the title so that the many readers here who skip my baseball posts don’t skip this one entirely. It’s not mostly about baseball. But the introduction is.
You see, now it really gets hard for me. Grace, my wife of 43 years, dropped dead on Leap Year. March 1 is when baseball’s Spring Training becomes serious, and baseball is one of my most consuming passions. I taught Grace to love the game; during the seasons we watched the Red Sox almost every day (until they frustrated her too much, which happened frequently). Today, the 2024 season ends. It didn’t save me from being depressed, overwhelmed, guilty, angry and frustrated, but it sure helped a lot. The games also were virtually my only respite from work, as I try to resuscitate our, now my, struggling business after it was savaged by what I bitterly call “the Stupid Lockdown.” I’d watch a game with Spuds sprawled across my lap, then, when it ended, usually around 9:30 pm or so, I would head up to the office to go back to work, either in the throes of the joy of victory or the agony of defeat.
Starting tomorrow, I’ll have neither Grace nor the the Red Sox. Wish me luck.
Meanwhile, yesterday was an ethics milestone in Red Sox, baseball and sports history.
On September 28, 1941, the last day of Major League Baseball’s regular season, the Ted Williams became the first player since 1930 to hit .400 as well as quite probably the last player to do so as well. “I guess I’ll be satisfied with that thrill out there today,” he told the Boston Globe of his quest for .400. “I never wanted anything harder in my life.” He never wanted anything harder, but he refused to get it on a technicality. Going into the final day, a double-header, “The Splendid Splinter” as he was called by some writers sported a .399 average that had enough numerals after it to be rounded up to .400. The Red Sox manager, Joe Cronin, told Ted to sit out the last two games. They were meaningless (the Yankees had already clinched the pennant, just like they’ve already clinched the American League East title this year, and the games were meaningless to the Red Sox. Cronin told Williams that nobody would blame him for protecting his historic batting average.
But Ted Williams didn’t care about other people (this was something of a problem for him); it was meeting his own standards that mattered. He felt that “backing in” to a .400 average would be cowardly and would tarnish the achievement in his own eyes. So he risked his .400 average by playing both games…and got six hits in eight at-bats to raise his average to .406.
The ethics password for this weekend is “integrity.“
Meanwhile, in non-baseball ethics news…
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