captainsblog (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
captainsblog) wrote2019-03-10 05:10 pm
captainsblog) wrote2019-03-10 05:10 pm
Heroes:( And of course, dogs.
Last week wasn't good for some of the good guys in their 70s. Oddly, both were christened with the name George, but neither came to fame by that name.
First came word about the older of the two- but this older George didn't become a cultural icon until much later than the younger did. I vaguely remember George Alexander Trebek from his first forays in the 1970s into the television game show genre. First was something called The Wizard of Odds, which, like his later dice game High Rollers, was more of a probability event than a test of knowledge. But when Jeopardy! revived in the mid 1980s and original legend Art Fleming said "No, sorry," to coming back for it, Trebek began a career that brought him much greater fame, iconic status across all borders of trivia, as well as the finest form of flattery.
In my only foray into a gym all of the past workweek, I saw Alex on the tube well before his show's usual 7:30 start time. The only words I heard were "continue to host," and they were not in the form of a question. Turns out he has been diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer, with one of the bleakest remission rates of all of those evil mutants. Still, he vows to press on at least through his final contract year which will bring him to age 80.
We wish him way more than 30 seconds for his Final Jeopardy Answer. Good luck.
----
As if that wasn't enough for one week, the photos of a slightly younger but much more long-standing hero started showing up a day or so later:
That's the drawing of George Thomas Seaver from the collection of 1969 Miracle Mets which the Daily News put out following their improbable World Series win that year. I've never met him, unlike a few in that collection who've given their live autographs since. He became the first Met to be enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame for his playing prowess; in his two stints with the team, he set or broke just about every pitching record the team had ever put before him; picked up hardware for rookie and pitching performances; came within one Nobody Outfielder's bloop hit of earning the only perfect game in Mets history; and was in the ballpark (albeit in the other dugout) for the team's 1986 championship, its second and most recent.
Since retiring, he's been a broadcaster, a vintner, but always a legend. He threw the last pitch after the final game at Shea Stadium, was on hand for the 2013 All-Star Game (the only one ever played on his successor "home field"), and until recently he held the record for highest percentage of voters choosing him on his first foray into Cooperstown. We will always have all of that, along with the heavy presence at Citi Field, but sadly he will have less and less of it: it was announced that Seaver is stepping off public life, due to the onset of dementia.
He's not the first of his era: Ed Kranepool, another of the Mets on that '69 team who I did meet once, is waiting for a kidney replacement. Another Ed I've met and marveled at, Ed Charles, passed away last year, along with later-comer spanning 70s and 80s on the team, Rusty Staub. But none of them were The Franchise. None broke millions of hearts when a greedy general manager and an asshole Daily News columnist forced him to be traded away to Cincinnati, where he finally threw that elusive no-hitter and highlighted the few dark years when even I could not bear to watch what was left of the Mets.
He'll likely outlast Alex, who he's four years younger than to begin with. Dementia is a cruel partner; my mother hung on for years, in the best physical health of her recent life, while not being able to communicate. A day will come, a patch will arrive, and for years, Ken Jennings (or whoever takes over) will be doing Seaver clues in SPORTS LEGENDS FOR $4000 for decades to come.
And I will still say, "Suck it."
----
No diseases of mind or body here, though (wot I know of). The week was mostly gymless out of just a massive amount of busy: court every day except Monday, a mixture of long, clueless and stressful and Friday being a mixed bag of all three. I'd normally have gone on Saturday after walking Pepper around the block, but she tricked me into an extra park trip: I left the driver's door of Eleanor's car open while hunting for my hat and gloves, and she hopped right into the front seat. I relented, and by the time I grabbed some other things for the trip, she'd settled right in:
“How am I supposed to drive this thing if my paws don’t reach the pedals?”
Well, that's what humans are for. We had a lovely time, and timely, too, since we saw the sign indicating the Parp! is closed for the rest of the month for its annual Spring Thaw. (We took alternate walkies this morning and did just fine.)
This coming week promises to be just as busy in court, although nothing out of town. And hopefully we can get on to smiting some of the bad guys instead:P
First came word about the older of the two- but this older George didn't become a cultural icon until much later than the younger did. I vaguely remember George Alexander Trebek from his first forays in the 1970s into the television game show genre. First was something called The Wizard of Odds, which, like his later dice game High Rollers, was more of a probability event than a test of knowledge. But when Jeopardy! revived in the mid 1980s and original legend Art Fleming said "No, sorry," to coming back for it, Trebek began a career that brought him much greater fame, iconic status across all borders of trivia, as well as the finest form of flattery.
In my only foray into a gym all of the past workweek, I saw Alex on the tube well before his show's usual 7:30 start time. The only words I heard were "continue to host," and they were not in the form of a question. Turns out he has been diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer, with one of the bleakest remission rates of all of those evil mutants. Still, he vows to press on at least through his final contract year which will bring him to age 80.
We wish him way more than 30 seconds for his Final Jeopardy Answer. Good luck.
----
As if that wasn't enough for one week, the photos of a slightly younger but much more long-standing hero started showing up a day or so later:
That's the drawing of George Thomas Seaver from the collection of 1969 Miracle Mets which the Daily News put out following their improbable World Series win that year. I've never met him, unlike a few in that collection who've given their live autographs since. He became the first Met to be enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame for his playing prowess; in his two stints with the team, he set or broke just about every pitching record the team had ever put before him; picked up hardware for rookie and pitching performances; came within one Nobody Outfielder's bloop hit of earning the only perfect game in Mets history; and was in the ballpark (albeit in the other dugout) for the team's 1986 championship, its second and most recent.
Since retiring, he's been a broadcaster, a vintner, but always a legend. He threw the last pitch after the final game at Shea Stadium, was on hand for the 2013 All-Star Game (the only one ever played on his successor "home field"), and until recently he held the record for highest percentage of voters choosing him on his first foray into Cooperstown. We will always have all of that, along with the heavy presence at Citi Field, but sadly he will have less and less of it: it was announced that Seaver is stepping off public life, due to the onset of dementia.
He's not the first of his era: Ed Kranepool, another of the Mets on that '69 team who I did meet once, is waiting for a kidney replacement. Another Ed I've met and marveled at, Ed Charles, passed away last year, along with later-comer spanning 70s and 80s on the team, Rusty Staub. But none of them were The Franchise. None broke millions of hearts when a greedy general manager and an asshole Daily News columnist forced him to be traded away to Cincinnati, where he finally threw that elusive no-hitter and highlighted the few dark years when even I could not bear to watch what was left of the Mets.
He'll likely outlast Alex, who he's four years younger than to begin with. Dementia is a cruel partner; my mother hung on for years, in the best physical health of her recent life, while not being able to communicate. A day will come, a patch will arrive, and for years, Ken Jennings (or whoever takes over) will be doing Seaver clues in SPORTS LEGENDS FOR $4000 for decades to come.
And I will still say, "Suck it."
----
No diseases of mind or body here, though (wot I know of). The week was mostly gymless out of just a massive amount of busy: court every day except Monday, a mixture of long, clueless and stressful and Friday being a mixed bag of all three. I'd normally have gone on Saturday after walking Pepper around the block, but she tricked me into an extra park trip: I left the driver's door of Eleanor's car open while hunting for my hat and gloves, and she hopped right into the front seat. I relented, and by the time I grabbed some other things for the trip, she'd settled right in:
“How am I supposed to drive this thing if my paws don’t reach the pedals?”
Well, that's what humans are for. We had a lovely time, and timely, too, since we saw the sign indicating the Parp! is closed for the rest of the month for its annual Spring Thaw. (We took alternate walkies this morning and did just fine.)
This coming week promises to be just as busy in court, although nothing out of town. And hopefully we can get on to smiting some of the bad guys instead:P