The strange part is that that the older I get, the more I admire the Al Kalines of the world. Because, I suppose, that’s how I see my father. He could not be Roberto Clemente. No, he had to go to the factory every morning, up at 5:30 a.m., dress in the dark, get in the rusted out Chevy Nova, drive over those Cleveland potholes (some large enough to be great lakes) to get to Solon and a long day’s work. Sons idolize their fathers, of course. And the older I get, the more I do, the more I find myself drawn not to the spectacular, but to the person who delivers every day, who makes all the plays in the outfield without great acclaim, who fights through injuries and continues to perform with consistency — someone you can count on every single day.The rest is possessed of the usual Posnanski goodness as well.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Kaline vs. Clemente
Posnanski kicks off his new "Who's Better" feature (explanation here) by weighing the merits of Al Kaline and Roberto Clemente. I'm hopelessly biased -- I grew up in a land where Al Kaline, while not quite God, was definitely a deity. Posnanski breaks it down much more objectively than that. Though, because everything is fair game in his "Who's Better" series, it's not totally objective: