On Labor Day of 1955 my
family moved to New Jersey. That
October, as I walked to the school bus a neighbor stopped his truck, leaned out
the window and asked whom I was rooting for in the World Series, the Yankees or
the Dodgers. Nine years old, I
tried to guess what answer would please Mr. Miller the most. I guessed right. Yankees! Thus began a relationship that continues to this day, momentarily
melancholy as it may be after this
season’s playoff loss to the Astros.
As a boy growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, there were Octobers of great
excitement and happiness as Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi, and all my other
heroes walloped “Ballantine Blasts” out of Yankee Stadium, the House That Ruth
Built (after beer baron Jacob Ruppert purchased the team). Knickerbocker was the beer of the New
York Giants and Schaefer a sponsor of the Brooklyn Dodgers. The Schaefer sign on the Ebbets Field
scoreboard would light up with an “H” or an “E” to help those scoring at the ballpark
or at home. Later the Mets arrived
and adopted Rheingold as their official beer with their own glowing “H” &
“E”.
October was always a time
to follow ballplayers in their joy and despair. At least until October despair became trivial three years
ago when our son and brother, William, succumbed to what proved to a fatal
heroin overdose. That loss brought my wife and me to the Mall in Washington DC
this past October 4th. We joined
30,000 other people from all across the country to participate in the Unite To
Face Addiction rally. The rally
made history in part by declaring the event “The Day the Silence Ends.” No more will any of us tolerate or
accept secrecy, shame and silence about the disease of addiction. Celebrities
from all walks of life were there to share their stories of recovery, to
reinforce the message that recovery is possible, and to speak out against the
stigma of the disease. We were
reminded again and again that there are 23 million Americans in long term
recovery from alcoholism and substance use disorder. Among those speaking was former Yankee (and yes, Dodger,
Giant, and Met) Darryl Strawberry.
His struggles have been well documented, but there was Darryl looking
fit and trim, speaking persuasively from the heart about his recovery and proud
of the two recovery centers he has established. A ballplayer offering a different kind of hope in
October.
Later, the rally included
a photomontage of celebrities who lost their battle with addiction. There was my boyhood hero, Mickey
Mantle, bigger than life, again, taking one more swing on a giant screen.
The following day was
Advocacy Day. Nearly 700 people
from all over the country went to Capitol Hill to talk with Congressmen and
Senators in the interest of making elected officials more aware and proactive
in the fight against addiction in all its ghastly guises. We were part of the New York delegation
that spent time being well received in Senator Chuck Schumer’s office.
As we gathered outside the
office for a quick “team photo” and goodbyes, I checked my e-mail. There was a message from my friend
Mark, also a Yankee fan and a bit of a baseball historian, letting me know that
CC Sabathia had just entered an alcohol treatment program.
My mind went back to
Mickey Mantle. Then to Billy
Martin. The more I thought about
it, the more Yankee names came up:
Dwight Gooden, Whitey Ford, Steve Howe, Jim Bouton, the Sultan of Swat
himself, Babe Ruth, and once again, Darryl. Men whose lives may have even been celebrated as real men
who could drink hard and play hard at a time when there was less discrimination
over a swing and a swig. Men whose
substance use was denied or protected, sometimes even by the sportswriters who
sat at the bar with them. How many more Yankees are there I don’t even know
about? How many ballplayers all
across the game?
Now there is one
more. But there is something
different this time. CC Sabathia
is to be commended. He’s not
hiding. To me he’s a hero for
saying, “It hurts me deeply to do this now, but I owe it to myself and to my
family to get myself right.” No
silence. No shame. Just honesty in the first important
step on what one hopes will be his road to recovery. Honesty in making that first step more important than
anything else in his life. We owe
him the same understanding and compassion we would offer him if he were dealing
with any other life threatening disease.
Not everyone believes that, of course. Our culture remains primitive and judgmental when it comes
to alcohol and substance use disorder.
Someday soon one hopes we see he is the kind of role model our kids
need, a new kind of October champion.
CC is helping spread the
message we heard on the Mall. The
silence needs to end. The silence
will end. 30,000 people were there
to change the attitude of America about a dread disease. We will spread our
message. We WILL prevail. If we build it they will come. Thanks for your help CC.
