The 50 Plus Male

My brother Kenn (a fellow member of the 50 plus male fraternity) belongs to a men’s club affiliated with his synagogue. The club annually breaks for the summer season by holding an end-of-year outing. Their recent celebration, held two weeks ago, was a sports lover’s nirvana—brunch with Darren “Dutch” Daulton (he has no remembrance of how he acquired this moniker) in a clubhouse suite at Citizens Bank ballpark, home to the Philadelphia Phillies. Kudos to Kenn for extending me an invitation to join him. The day was a rousing success for a variety of reasons.

For those of you not familiar with Daulton, he was the Phillies catcher from 1983-1997 before being traded to the Florida Marlins. To this day, he is known as the greatest clubhouse leader in the team’s history. Dutch served as the focal point for much of the success shared by the Phillies during his playing years, and was the unspoken steward of the “wild bunch” comprised of Daulton, John Kruk, and Lenny (“Dude”/”Nails”) Dykstra. Daulton was a three-time All-Star before injuries brought a halt to his career.

It’s what happened after Dutch’s playing days ended that sets him apart from his former teammates. I’ll be polite by only briefly mentioning a DUI/suspended license episode along with an arrest on domestic violence charges. You’re thinking so what; many former and present athletes have faced similar trials and tribulations. Ah, but how many became well-known for their beliefs in the occult, various conspiracies, and a stout devotion to numerology? He even authored a book on these subjects, titled “If They Only Knew.” Dutch became a character who was widely believed to be “way out there” and many thought he was undergoing mental problems as well as physical (e.g. his weight ballooned).

His appearance at the brunch unveiled the new and improved version of Darren Daulton. He sports a perpetual tan (from living in Clearwater, FL for half of the year) accompanied by a Hollywood smile, and his weight has returned to a respectable level. Daulton could not have been more courteous or hospitable during the “party.” He gave a brief pre-brunch speech, and after the fine food was enjoyed by all, signed autographs and posed for pictures with aplomb.

This was followed by the most enjoyable part of the gathering, an extended question-and-answer session exhibiting Daulton’s extensive knowledge of the game along with fond memories of his years as a player. Daulton has become a true ambassador for baseball through his numerous personal appearances, and hosting a radio show on a local sports station entitled “Talking Baseball with Dutch.” Give him credit, he takes none of this good fortune for granted; numerous times he expressed “it took me 49 years to get these gigs and I’m not going to blow it.”

Now for the real reason I will always remember this day. It wasn’t meeting Daulton, the palatable food, or the game itself. It was the sheer joy of sharing a relaxed, lazy day in the fan-friendly confines of the ballpark with my brother. All personal and work-related concerns evaporated and we reminisced about past Phillies teams, appearances in the World Series, and the favorite players of our youth. Kenn and I share a love of the old Mays/McCovey/Cepeda/Marichal San Francisco Giants teams. Our discussion evoked memories of one of my all-time favorite gifts from my parents—a plastic replica of Willie Mays in his famed “basket-catch” pose.

The day was cloudy and the Phillies lost a forgettable game; none of that mattered. The old saying that “the simple things in life bring the most pleasure” was underscored by our blissful enjoyment. It was a true moment of bonding between brothers. Who knows, maybe the sun was shining after all…

-Neal

“Happy times are here again”…no guys, I’m not singing the familiar refrain from the tune of the same name written in 1929 that served as FDR’s Presidential campaign song in 1932, has appeared in countless movie soundtracks, and is best known by our generation as the unofficial theme song of the Democratic party.  I’m in an upbeat mood because my hometown baseball team, the Phillies, clinched the National League Easter Division crown last night and are headed for the playoffs.  Let’s face it, October baseball is played at a much more entertaining and intense level than any other part of the season. 

This is the third straight year the Phillies have accomplished this feat, a mark of consistency generally not occurring  with great frequency in the world of sports these days.  Yes, we’ve had our  teams of each decade:  for example, the ‘70’s crown belonging to the Pittsburgh Steelers in football, and the ‘90’s crown resting with the Chicago Bulls in basketball.  The true kings of consistency in sports, possibly for all-time, are the Red Auerbach/Bill Russell-led Boston Celtics and the venerable New York Yankees of yesteryear baseball lore. I raise the consistency theme because it’s doubtful we will ever see real dynasties in sports again.  Nowadays, if a team is fortunate enough to win two consecutive championships, “dynasty” begins appearing in our sports columns.

While many of us 50 plus males have yet to reach senior-citizen status, we are old enough to remember when the makeup of our hometown teams’ personnel didn’t vary from year-to-year nearly to the degree it does today.  Now, in the era of big-money sports where owners and fans alike are thinking “what have you done for us lately,” we find ourselves in many cases rooting for this year’s rent-a-team, as player loyalty is no longer defined by playing on a specific team for the long-term; today it’s all about the dollars and serving as hired mercenaries to the highest bidders (admittedly, sports agents are major culprits here too). 

So, while the good times have arrived for fans of the eight playoff-bound baseball teams, how many of you are truly emotionally vested in the outcome?  Unless the core of your team has been home-grown through its farm system and buttressed with maybe a couple of key trades through the years, as opposed to the wholesale annual personnel moves that have become the norm, asking for your ardent loyalty isn’t warranted.  There’s nothing wrong with having passion for the game; sports after all provides a primary outlet for us to live our dreams though the pros and vent by the water cooler.  Yes, many towns still have rabid team fans, particularly for football domestically and soccer world-side, but we 50 plus males know the difference between frenzied behavior versus indisputable sentimental loyalty.

-Neal  

note:  “Happy Days Are Here Again” song facts courtesy Wikipedia