Bob Gibson!

When I was a kid in the 1960's I could pick up baseball games on the transistor radio late at night (which to a kid and to an old guy about 9pm)and the 3 teams I could listen to were the Kansas City A's, the Minnesota Twins and on occasion when the wind was blowing just right, the St Louis Cardinals. When Bob Gibson pitched, that transistor took a beating as I rolled the little wheel around trying so hard to find Harry Carey's growling voice. Gibby was THE man. He was from Omaha, he lived in Omaha and he was one of my heroes.

Goddamned cancer has picked a fight with Bob Gibson as it has with so many. Cancer dont care who it attempts to destroy. It takes so many people every day and somebody somewhere is devastated either by a diagnosis of a loved one or a diagnosis to themselves. God it sucks.

Bob Gibson got that bad news a few weeks ago and per reports will begin chemotherapy for pancreatic cancer this week. Its devastating to see all this happen to childhood heroes of mine.

I am a fan of so many things. But baseball is my jam. I love its history, I love its stories, its movies, its legend, its stadiums and its players. My heroes, like Harmon Killebrew, Willie Mays, Catfish Hunter, Roberto Clemente, Willie McCovey, Ernie Banks, Hank Aaron, and Bob Gibson. Most of those are gone now (hang in there Willie and Hank) but Bob Gibson is special to me in so many ways others cannot be. Besides being from my hometown, Gibby was a pitcher as was I. He owned the mound as did I. He taught me how to pitch by watching him and reading his book. Now my abilities and his are far different but when I was on that mound, I let him into my mind. I emulated his style by falling off the mound towards first base at times when I needed that extra ooomph. I told catchers to leave me alone when they came out to calm my emotions. But I couldnt be him because I didnt have the talent and I also didnt have the experience of growing up in the Omaha ghetto.

Bob Gibson is an angry man. He always has been. His first book, From Ghetto To Glory was an angry book for 1968. Most sports bios were sweet and inspirational and sugary. Bob Gibsons bio was angry and resentful and not flattering to his hometown, my hometown. He spoke of segregation and racism and riots and other things nobody from here wanted to hear about. I loved it. It taught this white suburban kid a thing or two about something other than throwing a baseball. I remember my Mom thinking I shouldnt be reading it for some reason. Too bitter. Too angry. But she let me read it anyway. In fact she bought it for me cuz I was a little kid with no money.

So in this cancer fight I am rooting for Bob Gibson. Yeah. he is still not the warmest man or even a nice man. They put a statue of him up at the local minor league ballpark and he looked like he'd rather be anyplace else. I get that, I hate attention also. So lets leave him alone in this fight.

Bob Gibson, a man who should knock any batter on his ass for any kind of slight. A man who once told catcher Tim McCarver to get the fuck off HIS mound when he came out to unrattle Gibby. A guy who pitched like he was double parked per Vin Scully. A guy who umpire Doug Harvey said would have put a pitch in Barry Bonds ear if he'd hit a home run and admired it.

And lastly an athlete who said he didnt want to be a role model for YOUR kids when that was YOUR job.

Fight on Bob. I'm with ya. And I'll stop there. Its YOUR mound man.