I’m not one to deify sports figures and elevate them into social ‘model’ positions that transforms them into demi-gods whose behavior I want my grandkids to emulate. Especially an Ohio guy who picked Michigan as his college of choice.
Still, Barry Larkin just might be the exception to that rule.
Like a few of you out there, I am southwest Ohio born and have known myself to be a Cincinnati Reds fan ever since I was aware of baseball. I remember listening to Waite Hoyt do Reds play-by-play when I was a real youngster, followed in the radio booth by Jim McIntire, Claude Sullivan, and Al Michaels before Marty Brenneman and Joe Nuxhall took over and created a Reds tradition that has led Marty, himself, to the Hall of Fame as a broadcaster.
I remember, too, offering special bedtime prayers when the Reds were losing to Pittsburgh, or the Dodgers, on more than one night while on my knees. Back in the 50s, the Reds were perennial also-rans. I loved Gus Bell, Johnny Temple, Vada Pinson, Jim O’Toole, Bobby Tolan, Jim Maloney, Wally Post, and so many others, both as a kid just becoming aware of baseball and as a real baseball fan growing into an awareness of Cincinnati baseball history. I can still remember how lousy my high school buddies and I felt when the Reds thought it a good idea to trade Frank Robinson to Baltimore for Milt Pappas. Heavens.
Barry Larkin is a few years younger than I am, but he grew up pretty much like me: a native Ohio kid born into knowing the Reds as our local boys of summer. The Reds may have lost more than we wanted, and failed to win championships when we knew they just had to, but they were our guys. New York and LA may have had the top market teams, but when the Reds played ‘em, we gave ‘em a run for their money. Well, maybe not the 1961 World Series, but you get my drift.
Ken Griffey Jr. and Buddy Bell grew up in Cincinnati, too, but their dads were in the Reds’ employ. Not so Barry Larkin. Just like the rest of us fans, Larkin grew up playing ball on local diamonds and celebrated the Big Red Machine and the 1975-76 back-to-back World Series championships as reward for all the years of waiting for something good to happen to our guys. Cincinnati Reds fans waited a damned long time for those championship seasons, and Barry Larkin was one us who savored that success.
And then Barry became a Red, setting the stage for the next round of Reds World Series success in 1990, going wire-to-wire with sweet Lou Pinella as manager and the infamous Marge Shott as principal owner. Such a time it was!
Yesterday was Barry’s day in Cooperstown. Too bad Ron Santo couldn’t have been there to share it personally with Larkin, but Cubs fans present held Santo up and it was very much his day, too. Makes a guy think seriously about diabetes, I’ll say that.
I’ve been to Cooperstown once, the same summer Tony Perez was inducted, though Cindy Lou and I got there a few weeks later. It’s my hope to get grandson Noah to that hallowed ground next month on our way back from a week in Maine. It would be great to share that wonderful bucolic town -- and America’s love of baseball -- with that young man.
The Reds have had their successes over time. I hope they have some magic left in upcoming years that will light us all up like Friday night fireworks at Great American Ballpark.
We have the Big Red Machine’s Tony Perez, Johnny Bench, and Joe Morgan in the Hall of Fame. Pete should be there, too, but that’s another story. Now we have Cincinnati’s own Barry Larkin to be commemorated as one of the best shortstops ever to play the game.
Thanks for being there for us, Barry. You make us proud!
Today’s Elder Idea: Makes me wonder if Joey Votto will become the first Dayton Dragon to be inducted into the Hall of Fame. But that’s a long, successful career off.
How about a few World Series championships first?
Play ball! ;-)
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