Holy Cow
By ice rivers
- 115 reads
Old Joe White, a 75-year-old bachelor and lifelong Yankee fan, had always been a spry, spirited and childlike man. With a heart full of love for baseball and a particular fondness for Phil Rizzuto, he had spent his childhood and much of his life passionately cheering on the New York Yankees. But then, an unexpected stroke hit him like a sudden storm, leaving him confined to a nursing home.
Joe White, a confirmed bachelor despite his many female friends and lovers, was a man of extraordinary breadth. He was a scholar, well-versed in the intricacies of history and literature, and a seasoned world traveler who had amassed stories from the farthest corners of the globe. Yet, amidst his scholarly pursuits, there was a resounding beat of passion that echoed through his New York heart.
In his veins flowed the blood of a true Yankee fan, an unwavering allegiance that transcended time and circumstance. He had witnessed the heyday of legends, those iconic Bombers who graced the diamond at Yankee Stadium with their unparalleled prowess. But it wasn't just baseball that shaped Joe's quiver of interests.
He had stood amidst the roaring crowd at Shea Stadium, the exhilarating harmonies of the Beatles washing over him as a collective mania ignited the air. That was Joe—engaged with the cultural currents of his era, a part of the collective heartbeat that defined the spirit of his generation.
However, Joe's taste wasn't confined to the mainstream. He was a Deadhead, swaying to the rhythms of the Grateful Dead, and an Ed Head, finding solace and laughter in the surreal sketches of " Mr. Ed" the talking horseespecailly the epidoe when Mr. Ed won the game sliding into homeplate, his hoof arriving a milisecond before the ball. These eclectic musical and comedic choices painted him as a man who appreciated the spectrum of human expression.
And then there were the quirks that shaped Joe's character. He possessed an unquenchable thirst for the adrenaline rush of roller coasters, finding an intoxicating thrill in every twist and turn. He could discuss the intricacies of coaster design and the physics of the ride with the same passion he reserved for discussing the Yankees' batting lineup.
And through it all, he wore his trusty baseball cap, a testament to his allegiance. It was as much a part of him as his heart and soul. The cap was a declaration, a statement of identity that marked him as a devotee of the sport he loved. It was a visual representation of his unswerving loyalty.
Even at 75, Joe was never old until whatever it was happenedand he found himself wherever he was.
Before the stroke, just a week earlier, Joe had been at Yankee Stadium. The once-mighty Yankees were struggling, tumbling down the ranks to last place. But Joe's loyalty to the team remained unshaken. He could vividly remember the echoes of the cheering crowd, the crack of the bat, and the joy of watching his beloved team take the field.
One of Joe's fondest memories was that of Phil Rizzuto, the legendary Yankee shortstop and later a beloved broadcaster. Rizzuto was known for his colorful commentary, often punctuated with quirky catchphrases. Among them, the phrase "Holy Cow!" had become synonymous with his excitement and astonishment at the happenings on the field.
Rizzuto had a knack for turning mundane plays into memorable moments through his animated descriptions. When a player made a spectacular catch or a pitcher struck out a batter with a particularly impressive pitch, Rizzuto's "Holy Cow!" would resonate through the airwaves, conveying the sheer exhilaration of the game to the listeners.
Phil Rizzuto, known as "The Scooter," was a diminutive but electrifying figure both on and off the baseball field. Standing at just 5 feet 6 inches tall, Rizzuto defied his stature with a boundless energy and an unwavering dedication to the game of baseball. His playing style and personality made him a beloved figure among teammates, fans, and fellow broadcasters alike.
Joe White stood 66 inches tall.
On the field, Rizzuto's agility and quickness were his defining traits. As a shortstop for the New York Yankees from 1941 to 1956, he exhibited remarkable range, diving for grounders and making lightning-fast throws to retire runners. His defensive prowess often turned potential hits into outs, and his ability to turn double plays with seamless precision earned him a reputation as one of the best defensive shortstops of his time.
Rizzuto's tenacity was evident in every play he made. Despite his small stature, he possessed an infectious enthusiasm that fueled his performance. Whether he was sprinting across the infield to make a spectacular catch or laying down a perfectly executed bunt to advance a runner, his approach to the game was marked by determination and a genuine love for every aspect of baseball.
Offensively, Rizzuto was known for his smart and strategic approach at the plate. He was skilled at getting on base through bunts, walks, and well-placed hits, often setting the table for the heart of the Yankees' lineup. His ability to steal bases and create chaos on the paths added an extra layer of excitement to his game.
Beyond his playing abilities, Rizzuto's infectious personality and sense of humor endeared him to fans and teammates. He was known for his friendly and approachable demeanor, always ready with a smile or a quip that could lighten the mood in the dugout. This affable nature translated seamlessly into his post-playing career as a beloved broadcaster for the Yankees. His colorful and animated commentary, often punctuated with his iconic catchphrase "Holy Cow," brought the excitement of the game to life for generations of fans.
Phil Rizzuto's legacy extended far beyond the field, as he became an emblematic figure in the history of the New York Yankees and the sport of baseball. His playing style, characterized by hustle, determination, and an unrelenting love for the game, left an indelible mark on the sport. Rizzuto's influence on and off the field continues to be celebrated, serving as a reminder of the enduring power of passion, dedication, and the joy of baseball.
Joe resembled that remark.
During his induction speech into the Baseball Hall of Fame, Scooter injected his trademark sense of humor and wit. He playfully acknowledged the advice he had received about crafting a speech with a clear structure—beginning, middle, and ending. However, in his characteristically lighthearted manner, Rizzuto made it clear that he was going to do things his own way. Here's how he expressed it:
"I don't want to be a bore, but they told me to make my speech like Casey Stengel said, 'Have a beginning, a middle, and an end.' I don't think my speech will have any of those, but here goes."
With this humorous introduction, Rizzuto instantly captured the audience's attention and set the tone for his speech. He often relied on his wit and ability to connect with people through laughter, and his induction speech was no exception.
Throughout his speech, Rizzuto shared anecdotes, stories, and reflections that highlighted his genuine love for the game and his appreciation for the honor of being inducted into the Hall of Fame. His speech might not have followed a traditional structure, but it certainly resonated with the audience and showcased his unique personality.
Scooter's speech connected with Joe.
As a wide-eyed boy, Joe would eagerly accompany his father to Yankee Stadium, hand in hand, the anticipation bubbling within him like the froth on a freshly poured soda. Those were the days when legends like Joe Dimaggio, Whitey Ford, Mickey Mantle and Yogi Berra graced the field, when the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd resonated through the Bronx air like a symphony of dreams.
Joe's favorite memories were etched into his mind like cherished photographs. He would recount stories of his father teaching him how to keep score in the program, scribbling earnestly as the game unfolded. The hot dog vendors, their shouts harmonizing with the cheers and jeers of the fans, created a lively soundtrack that added to the magic of the experience.
One particularly vivid memory that Joe would often share was the time he caught a foul ball. It wasn't just any foul ball—it was a decisive moment that encapsulated the exhilaration of the game. The ball soared towards him like a shooting star, and Joe, with a mix of determination and luck, managed to clutch it in his outstretched hands. The feeling of that worn baseball nestled securely in his palm was a sensation he carried with him through the years.
Scooter had hit that foul ball.
However, after the stroke or whatever it was, everything changed. Joe found himself in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers with unfamiliar faces. His memory was foggy, and his ability to comprehend the present moment had been shaken. He felt lost, unable to grasp where he was or what was happening around him. The once-vibrant man was now caught in a web of confusion and uncertainty in which there was no beginning no middle and no end.
In his moments of lucidity, Joe would drift back to memories of the dugout, where he imagined himself as part of the team he had cheered for all his life. He'd sit on his bed, his eyes distant but focused on an invisible field, as he relived the exhilaration of a well-played game.
The nursing home staff started referring to him as "Old Joe," a term of endearment that somehow seemed to fit his weathered appearance. But even in his altered state, one thing remained constant: his love for the Yankees and his hero, Phil Rizzuto. The phrase "Holy Cow" echoed through the corridors whenever anyone spoke to him, a remnant of his undying connection to the game he adored.
Visitors would come and go, and sometimes they'd ask him about his past. With a wistful smile, he'd murmur tales of Phil Rizzuto's glory days, the iconic moments that had forever etched themselves into his heart. The stroke may have stolen much from Joe, but his connection to the Yankees and his cherished memories remained untouched.
As time went on, the nursing home staff learned to communicate with Joe in their own unique way. They'd share updates about the Yankees' games, recounting the wins and losses, and Joe's face would light up as he responded with a hearty "Holy Cow!" It became a bridge between the man he had been and the person he had become, a way to channel his passion despite the fog that often clouded his mind.
The story of Old Joe White became a heartwarming tale within the nursing home. Whenever a staff member was feeling low, they'd go talk to Joe. It served as a reminder that even in the face of adversity and the passage of time, the things that bring us joy and the connections that define us can endure. And so, surrounded by the love and care of those who had come to know and appreciate him, Old Joe White continued to live his days, uttering his beloved phrase whenever the spirit of the game stirred within him.
and then it was over
all of a sudden.
He was asleep.
He woke up.
They say that as Joe was passing, he whispered "Holy Cow".
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