Kris Kristofferson was one of a kind. He was a soldier, a scholar, a singer, a songwriter, an actor, and a cultural icon. Many people have been one or two of these things. Kris Kristofferson was the whole package.

Many years ago, I had the pleasure of attending the world premiere of the movie “Bloodworth” in Nashville. Kris starred in the film and was to receive an award after the film’s debut. I was seated one seat away from Nicole Kidman. Keith Urban was to her right, and Kristofferson sat directly across the aisle from me. I was in rarified air.

I had long been a fan of Kristofferson. I thought he was great in “A Star is Born” with Barbara Streisand (In later years, I came to believe that the Kristofferson/Streisand version of “A Star is Born” was better than the Bradley Cooper/Lady Gaga version), and I had long been a fan of the songs he had written, including one of my all-time favorites, “Me and Bobby McGee.” For what it’s worth, I prefer the Gordon Lightfoot version over the one done by Janis Joplin.

Anyway, I was excited to be at the premier of “Bloodworth,” not only to see Kristofferson’s latest film, but to hear the man speak after the debut when he received his award. Kristofferson’s performance as E.F. Bloodworth, a country singer who returns home to a dysfunctional family while battling demons of his own, was dark and gritty, and showcased his immense talent. When the film ended, the MC gave a short introduction for Kris, then called him up to get his award.

I saw Kristofferson struggle to get out of his seat. Finally, someone helped him stand (I’m fairly certain it was W. Earl Brown, the co-writer of Bloodworth and the actor who played Dan on one of my all-time favorite TV shows, “Deadwood.”), and then allowed Kris to lean on him as they walked up to the front of the theater. He gave a short, inarticulate speech, his words badly slurred, and then stumbled back to his seat.

For me, it was a sad affair, seeing someone I had long looked up to being humbled in that way. But the experience also taught me that no matter how talented or accomplished a person might be, they’re still human, and still subject to human foibles and weaknesses. Kristofferson battled alcoholism and drug abuse for many years. In fact, the roles he played in both “A Star is Born” and “Bloodworth” were only slightly fictionalized versions of his own life. He was a mess. But he was an intelligent, flawed, heartbreaking, creative, amazing mess.

RIP, Kris. Your life was an inspiration and a warning.

An internet meme is circulating around social media using a Bible verse to justify mistreating immigrants and deporting them from the country. Here’s what the verse,  Deuteronomy 28:43-44, says:

“⁴³Foreigners who live in your land will gain more and more power, while you gradually lose yours. ⁴⁴ They will have money to lend you, but you will have none to lend them. In the end, they will be your rulers.”

As you may know, I oppose a punitive immigration system. I particularly oppose the type of cruel plans Donald Trump has for immigrants, including mass round-ups, concentration camp-style detention facilities, and deporting millions of immigrants, including those who are in the country legally, as well as naturalized citizens.

So, I started wondering why the Bible would contain a passage that appears to be anti-immigrant. As I’ve stated often, I’m no expert on Christianity, but it has always been my understanding that God calls us to welcome the foreigner, not fear or abuse him. What was I missing?

It didn’t take long to figure out the verse from Deuteronomy that supporters of Donald Trump are using to justify his cruelty. If you continue reading chapter 28 of Deuteronomy, it says:

“⁴⁵ All these curses will come on you. They will pursue you and overtake you until you are destroyed, because you did not obey the Lord your God and observe the commands and decrees he gave you. ⁴⁶They will be a sign and a wonder to you and your descendants forever. ⁴⁷Because you did not serve the Lord your God joyfully and gladly in the time of prosperity, ⁴⁸therefore in hunger and thirst, in nakedness and dire poverty, you will serve the enemies the Lord sends against you. He will put an iron yoke on your neck until he has destroyed you.”

Well, that doesn’t really support the claim the Trump supporters are making, does it? In the verse offered to justify cruelty toward immigrants, the people are being punished because they “did not obey the Lord your God and observe the commands and decrees he gave you.” In other words, the people who disobeyed God brought on their own hardship. They were being punished for not following God’s commands and decrees.

That got me wondering, what are God’s commands and decrees when it comes to the treatment of foreigners and immigrants? As it turns out, there are a bunch of Bible verses that tell believers how to treat strangers to their land. For example:

“You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Deuteronomy 10:19)

“Cursed is anyone who withholds justice from the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow.’ Then all the people shall say, ‘Amen!” (Deuteronomy 27:19)

“The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” (Leviticus 19:34)

“When they were few in number, of little account, and strangers in the land, wandering from nation to nation, from one kingdom to another people, he allowed no one to oppress them; he rebuked kings on their account, saying, ‘Do not touch my anointed ones; do my prophets no harm.” (1 Chronicles 16:19-22)

“For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will dwell with you in this place, in the land that I gave of old to your ancestors forever and ever.” (Jeremiah 7:5-7)

“Thus says the Lord of hosts: Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy to one another; do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor; and do not devise evil in your hearts against one another.” (Zechariah 7:9-10)

“I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” (Matthew 25:35)

“Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of my brethren you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40)

“Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.” (Romans 12:13)

“Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured.” (Hebrews 13:1-3)

That’s just ten Bible verses speaking to treating strangers, foreigners, and immigrants with love and respect. There are several more. But my question is, with so many Bible verses telling us how to treat the strangers among us, why would Trump supporters—most, self-proclaimed Christians—misuse a Bible verse to justify Trump’s plans that so clearly go against Christian doctrine? Why would they weaponize the Bible to score political points? Maybe they simply don’t understand the error of their ways. Or maybe, they’re not the committed Christians they claim to be.

Every year, a group of leading universities from around the world release the World Happiness Report. The report is an in-depth analysis of the level of happiness experienced by citizens in each country, and ranks those countries to determine which ones are the happiest.

In 2024, as in past years, the Scandinavian countries ranked at or near the top of the list. Finland led the way, with the Netherlands not too far behind in sixth position. The United States finished twenty-third.

There are two things that the Dutch (that’s what people from the Netherlands are called) do that helps to make them among the happiest people in the world. Those two things are nisken and gezellig.

Nisken

Nisken, or the Dutch art of doing nothing, is like a super weapon used by happy people throughout the Netherlands. But to call it the “art of doing nothing” is a bit of a misnomer. Nisken does not always involve doing nothing. It could involve reading a book, listening to music, or going for a walk. Or it could involve literally doing nothing, such as sitting and staring out the window.

The point of nisken is to relax, unwind, and recharge. The point is not to accomplish anything or to work toward a goal. It is not to be productive. It involves a lack of proactive behavior. It may not be doing nothing, but it isn’t about doing anything either.

Don’t confuse nisken with meditation. Unlike nisken, meditation involves rules. Often, people only practice meditation in a certain location at a certain time. Meditation is more of a practice than nisken, which is more of an eleent of a healthy, happy lifestyle. Meditation has an ultimate goal. Nisken does not.

The irony of nisken is that, while it isn’t designed to accomplish anything, by practicing nisken, people become happier and more productive. In case you didn’t know, the Dutch are among the most productive people in the world.

But being more productive is a side benefit of nisken. It’s a happy accident. Nisken tends to improve the lifestyle of people who incorporate it into their lives. And to get the most out of nisken, it should be scheduled and made a priority, not just something that happens when the time is right or the stars align.

Action Plan: Schedule Nisken into your daily life. If daily initially seems too often, start by integrating time for nisken into your life weekly. Be conscious about making time for nisken. Make it a priority.

Gezellig

Gezellig is a Dutch word that, translated into English, means “pleasant.” But that’s really not a very good translation. It doesn’t completely capture the true meaning of Gezellig.

For the Dutch, gezellig is a feeling of coziness or togetherness. It’s the joy felt when sharing time with friends or family. It’s a place or event that is inviting, pleasant, and fun.

Gezellig could involve spending  time with close friends or loved ones at a comfortable, fun location. It could involve spending time at a fun, pleasant event with a significant other or family member. It could also involve sharing time with friends or family celebrating a special occasion.

Notice the common thread running through these experiences? They all involve spending time with others, most often people who are special to us. But the thing that the Dutch do differently than those of us in the United States is, when they practice gezellig, they do so as a common or frequent occurrence.

Getting together with friends or family, especially for Americans as they grow older, becomes a less and less frequent occurrence.  By contrast, the Dutch make gezellig a routine practice, meeting up with friends and family daily or every few days. For the Dutch, it’s less of a special occasion than it it is a common occurrence.

But Gezellig isn’t just getting together with friends or family. It also involves making any moment more pleasant or comforting. It is unusual for the Dutch to do almost anything without a cup of tea and a snack, like a cookie. And to be gezellig, the Dutch don’t rush through the experience.  In fact, there is a Dutch saying that “Gezellig knows no time.” They slow down and savor the time together, making the gezelig experience a priority.

At it’s core, gezellig involves taking something ordinary and making it more special. It involves consciously making an act or event more cozy or pleasant. It’s all about the daily pursuit of happiness. And when you can turn something ordinary into something special and cozy, and can connect it with another person, especially a friend or loved one, you have gezellig.

Action Plan: Make getting together with friends or loved ones a priority. Make it a routine occurrence. And make it happen in a special location and/or a special way that is less ordinary.

Conclusion

Unlike most of us here in the United States, the Dutch (and other Scandinavian countries) prioritize happiness in their lives. They are among the most productive people on Earth, but they are productive because they are happy, not the other way around.

For many of us in the United States, we prioritize material possessions over simple routine experiences as a way of achieving happiness. For instance, it would not be unusual to hear someone in the United States say something to the effect of, “When I have enough money in the bank, or a big enough house, or a fancy enough car, then I’ll be happy.” By contrast, the Dutch prioritize happiness by taking time to “do nothing” as well as routinely spend time with  friends and loved ones. Their happiness is a result of how they live their lives. They are not waiting to live a happy, meaningful lifestyle until (fill in the blank).

You could be living a happier lifestyle right now by emulating the Dutch. Don’t wait. Incorporate nisken and gezellig into your life and start reaping the benefits.

It has been 23 years since the terrorist attacks of 9/11. Yet, even after 23 years, I continue to be amazed at the heroism contained in the largely untold stories of people who did what had to be done on that day.

I recently learned about the Great Boatlift of 9/11. It had never occurred to me before that after the airplanes hit the Twin Towers, Manhattan was shut down. As the title implies, Manhattan is an island, and with the bridges shut down by police, there was no way for people to get off the island. More than 500,000 people were stranded, and their only hope of escaping Manhattan was to leave by boat. Over the course of nine hours, both public and private boats carried people off the island in what became an even larger rescue mission than Operation Dynamo, the British operation that rescued nearly 350,000 stranded British and French soldiers trapped at Dunkirk during World War II.

It’s an amazing story that was told in the documentary Boatlift: An Untold Tale of 9/11 Resilience, narrated by Tom Hanks. It’s only 12 minutes long, but it’s a powerful reminder of how everyday people, when called upon, can do heroic things.

I used to understand the calculus of politics. I understood the structural dynamics of campaigns, candidates, and the electorate. I worked on three different campaigns for Congress, attended campaign manager training, received a master’s degree in political science, and I worked as a legislative liaison for one of the nation’s largest companies, building a grassroots political organization and working with company lobbyists (both internal and external) to craft and pass legislation.

I thought I knew my stuff. But the more I observe the current state of politics, particularly at the national level, the more I think I don’t know anything. Here’s what I mean:

Going back as far as I can remember, politicians were careful about what they said or did in public. They wanted to have a clean reputation in the eyes of the voters, and they wanted to make sure they didn’t do anything that could be used against them in a campaign. Sure, there were plenty of politicians who misbehaved and got caught, but at least whatever they were doing was done in private. They weren’t advertising their bad behavior. Just the opposite. They were trying to hide it.

That’s not the case today, at least not with Donald Trump. His bad behavior is on display for everyone to see. In some respects, that bad behavior is worn like a badge of honor, both by him and his supporters. And that’s the part of the political calculus I no longer understand.

The most recent example of Trump’s over-the-top bad behavior occurred a little over a week ago at Arlington National Cemetery. He was invited to the cemetery by some Gold Star families to participate in a wreath laying ceremony. Trump not only accepted the invitation, he brought along a crew to film a campaign ad. After the wreath laying ceremony, in which photos were taken by a Trump photographer, Trump went to another location in Section 60 of the cemetery where war dead from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are buried. He posed with supporters, including Utah Gov. Spencer Cox, for several different photos, while standing over the graves of fallen soldiers. In the photos, Trump (and several of his supporters) are smiling and giving a big thumbs up.

Of course, it is illegal to do what Trump did. Federal law prohibits political campaigns or election-related activities to be conducted within Army National Military Cemeteries. Trump’s campaign was advised of this law prior to their arrival at Arlington. Yet, they carried on with the illegal activity. And when an employee of Arlington National Cemetery tried to intervene and stop the illegal photo shoot, she was verbally and physically assaulted by Trump campaign aides.

I assume you know what Arlington National Cemetery is and why special rules apply there that might not apply elsewhere. Whether you are or not, I would recommend you read this editorial in the San Francisco Chronicle written by Sandy Alderson, former president and general manager of the NY Mets, and more importantly, a former Marine. In his editorial, Alderson, who was detailed while in the Marines to provide military honors at dozens of burials at Arlington National Cemetery, wrote:

“Not once, in all my visits to Arlington over the past 50 years, have I ever witnessed a ceremony, or heard of one, arranged, in whole or in part, for political gain. What I did see on those visits were families, many in their most vulnerable moments, coming together to honor loved ones who sacrificed so much for our country. Even for the grieving families who invited Trump, his campaign’s actions make clear they were the ones being used for his purposes, not theirs.”

Another read I would recommend is this poignant essay from Charlotte Clymer, a former Army soldier assigned to “The Old Guard,” the unit that provides military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. In her essay, Clymer gives us a glimpse into what it’s like to serve in such a sacred and important detail. It is both heartbreaking and inspiring to hear what lengths military members go to in order to bring honor to our fallen heroes and comfort to their families.

It’s worth reading Clymer’s entire essay, but I wanted to share a few concluding paragraphs she wrote:

“I fully admit to being a partisan, but for me, none of this is about politics because none of the Republicans or conservatives I have ever known would so much as consider showing anything but respect and admiration for our service members, our veterans, and their families.

“This is not about favor for any party or campaign because the moment you enter Arlington, politics are to be left at the gate. It’s not about you or me or anyone other than those buried in that ground and their loved ones who will never see them again because of their collective sacrifices.

“But Donald Trump is unwilling or unable to understand that because he cannot conceive of offering the highest degree of selfless service to our nation. The concept of ‘all gave some, some gave all’ is entirely incomprehensible to him. And therefore, he cannot extend proper respect to our military.”

After the debacle at Arlington, Gov. Cox used one of the photos taken of him at a gravesite in a campaign email. But he quickly issued an apology for the email and for participating in the politically motivated photo opportunity. He seemed to sense that what had been done–using the graves of America’s war dead as a prop for a fundraising email—had gone too far.

Former President Trump, on the other hand, showed absolutely no such remorse, taking a decidedly combative stance. Initially, his campaign accused the cemetery employee of having a mental health episode and denied that there was a physical altercation. But the Army issued a statement indicating that, in fact, a physical altercation had occurred, but that the Army employee didn’t wish to pursue charges because she was afraid of the repercussions that Trump supporters might carry out against her.

Next, Trump suggested that the Gold Star families who participated in the photo opportunity with him may have set him up for the bad publicity. Trump’s campaign quickly shut down that suggestion, and instead claimed that they had video evidence showing that no physical altercation with the Army employee had occurred. However, they refused to turn over the supposed video evidence to back up that claim.

Most recently, after feeling the backlash from both civilian and military groups, Trump has claimed that there was no controversary during his visit to Arlington (Remember, the Army had already issued a statement indicating that members of Trump’s campaign verbally and physically assaulted the Army employee) and blaming Kamala Harris (who he smugly refers to as “Comrade” Kamala Harris) for spreading what he called a “hoax.”

Such behavior from any other political figure would quickly derail their campaign and likely end their political career. This is especially true considering the previous instances where Trump disrespected our military members, calling them “suckers” and “losers,” and refusing to attend a ceremony to honor them because it was raining and he didn’t want to get his hair wet. He also disparaged former Sen. John McCain for being shot down and taken captive during the Vietnam War, saying he liked people who weren’t captured. In addition, he claimed that the Presidential Medal of Freedom was a better award than the Medal of Honor, the U.S. Military’s highest award, because most of the people who received the Medal of Honor were either all shot up or killed. And of course, how can we forget that time he verbally attacked the parents of a soldier who had been killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq after they spoke at the Democratic National Convention in 2016? Any of the incidents on their own would be a death knell for a political candidate. But not for Trump. Instead, his supporters stand behind him, using pretzel logic to make excuses for his behavior or denying that such behavior even occurred, despite loads of evidence to the contrary.

This is the part of the political calculus that I no longer understand. With very few exceptions, through the years, both political parties have nominated people of character and integrity to represent them in the presidential election. But Donald Trump has proven time and time again that he is completely lacking in character and integrity. In addition to his behavior at Arlington National Cemetery and his complete lack of remorse, consider that he has been adjudicated as a rapist, hung around with one of our nation’s most infamous pedophiles, has been convicted on 34 felony counts, and has been indicted on dozens more. Yet, he has been the Republican candidate for president in the last three elections, and the party stalwart continue to support his candidacy. I don’t get it.

Donald Trump has said and done many things since he descended that golden escalator in 2015 that have repulsed and angered me, but there’s nothing he has done in his public life that has so thoroughly disgusted me as the stunt he pulled at Arlington National Cemetery. Arlington is hallowed ground, perhaps the most sacred place in our nation. How Trump is still a viable candidate with a very realistic chance of becoming our next President is beyond my comprehension. I just don’t see how anyone who considers themselves a good citizen and who holds firm to American values can still support such a despicable, disrespectful, and dishonorable human being. I don’t understand, and I’m not sure that I want to.

In the summer of 1984, I had just completed my first year of law school, and my life was at a bit of a crossroads. I loved studying the law, but I had no desire to be a practicing attorney. I was attending John Marshall Law School in Chicago (now the University of Illinois-Chicago Law School), and I didn’t want to return. Although I loved law school, I knew myself well enough to know that I did not have the disciple to live in Chicago—with all the distractions the city had to offer—and also successfully complete my legal education.

It was a Saturday in late June, and I needed a break from trying to figure out my life. I knew that seeing my parents could provide that distraction.

When I got there, my mom was not home. I should have known. Like every Saturday, she was at the grocery store. My dad was home, and as luck would have it, the Cubs were playing the Cardinals on NBC’s Game of the Week.

In those days, my dad and I had an uneasy relationship. I don’t think he knew what to make of me. Although he was  proud of me for attending law school, I think he saw me still in school at the age of 24 as a way to avoid working for a living. Dad hadn’t graduated from high school. In fact, he had only made it through the eighth grade, and he didn’t understand higher education.

Despite our differences, over the years, we had bonded over baseball. Even at times when we were barely speaking, we would often watch a Cubs game together on WGN-TV. It was our one common point of interest.

What we didn’t know on that June Saturday was that we were about to watch the greatest baseball game either of us had ever seen. The game—which came to be known as The Sandberg Game—featured the Cardinals taking an early lead, the Cubs scoring a comeback victory in extra innings, and Ryne Sandberg having one of the greatest individual performances in baseball history.

Let me set the scene for you. The Cubs were down 9-8 in the bottom of the 9^th inning. There were two outs and Sandberg came up to bat. He was facing Bruce Sutter, one of the toughest relivers in the game, and a future Hall-of-Famer. Sandberg saw a pitch up in the zone and he knocked it deep into the left field bleachers  to tie the score.

My dad and I had seen enough Cubs games over the years to not get our hopes up. After all, we had watched them finish each of the previous 11 seasons with a losing record. Although they had come back from a 9-3 deficit, we still didn’t hold out much hope that they would tie, let alone win, the game.

But the 1984 Cubs were a different team. We didn’t know it yet, but they would go on to have a terrific season, winning 96 games, and they would go on to fall just one game short of reaching the World Series, breaking our hearts in the process. Sandberg’s home run caught us by surprise, and we were both suddenly much more interested in the game.

In the tenth inning, the Cardinals scored two runs to take an 11-9 lead, and we were once again certain the Cubs were going to lose. In the bottom half of the inning, Sandberg came to bat again, this time with a runner on first and two outs. Sutter was still on the mound (it was a different time). My dad said, “Can you imagine if Sandberg hits another home run?” One pitch later, he did exactly that, tying the game once again.

My dad did not show much emotion, but when Sandberg hit the ball, Dad let out an “Oh!” I was as surprised by Dad’s relative outburst as I was with Sandberg’s home run. I threw my hands in the air and watched the ball land in almost the exact same spot Sandberg’s 9^th inning home run had landed. I looked back at Dad, and he was smiling broadly. There was an excitement in his eyes, and he laughed, a sound I had heard precious little in the previous few years.

The Cubs went on to win the game 12-11 in 11 innings. My life was no closer to being figured out, but at least for that one day–at least for a few hours–I wasn’t worried about it.

Today is the 40^th anniversary of The Sandberg Game. It’s hard to believe it was that long ago. Dad is gone now, and I’ve reached middle age, assuming I live to be 128 years old. Life moves on.

Tonight at Wrigley Field in Chicago, the Cubs will unveil a statue of Ryne Sandberg, commemorating his Hall of Fame career. It seems only right that Ryno’s statue be unveiled on the anniversary of The Sandberg Game. Ryne is my all-time favorite Cub, and it was on June 23, 1984 that reverence was cemented.

Here are Sandberg’s two game-tying home runs with Bob Costas and Tony Kubek on the call:

Here is Bob Costas talking about The Sandberg Game on the Rich Eisen show back in 2021.

My first baseball glove resembled a pillow more than a modern day baseball glove. It was a hand-me-down my aunt gave me. When I first saw it, my face fell. I couldn’t hide my disappointment. My dad—my aunt’s brother—thanked her for the gift. He seemed genuinely appreciative, which meant to me that I was stuck with this twenty- or thirty-year-old relic of days gone by.

On the way home from my aunt’s, we made a detour. Dad pulled up in front of Hayden’s Sporting Goods and we went inside. For a kid who loved sports, being in Hayden’s felt like I had died and gone to heaven. There were so many things to look at, so many things to touch. We made our way to the baseball aisle. The display of baseball gloves was like a work of art. And the smell of fresh leather was intoxicating.

My friend Kevin’s dad worked at Hayden’s and he showed us some of the gloves they had for sale. The first few were too big or too expensive. Then he showed us a baseball glove that, at that young age, became the love of my life. It was a light tan, Wilson Sporting Goods Willie Mays model glove. As my dad talked to Kevin’s, I held the glove to my face and took in the aroma. It smelled like baseball.

Kevin’s dad showed us how to break in the glove by placing a softball, not a baseball, in it and tie it up with rubber bands. He showed us how to oil it to keep the leather soft and supple.

On the way home, I held the glove in my arms like it was a newborn. We followed the directions we had been given to break it in, and then I waited. I wanted to take it outside, to show my friends, but Dad said I couldn’t take it out until the breaking-in process was complete. I don’t remember how long it took, but to me, it seemed like an eternity.

I remember getting up from watching TV to check on the glove. I don’t know what I thought might happen to it. I just wanted to see it. I checked on the glove before I went to bed, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from it, so I slept with it next to me in the bed. It was the most important possession I had in my life. It stayed that way for years.

Naturally, I had heard of Willie Mays, but since I now owned a Willie Mays model glove, I put in the effort to learn who Willie Mays really was. I saw him play against the Cubs occasionally on WGN and I saw his highlights on This Week in Baseball with Mel Allen. I read about him in Sports Illustrated and Sport Magazine. 

I once read a story about when Willie was first called up to the majors. He had originally played in the Negro Leagues with the Birmingham Black Barons, but had been signed by the New York Giants and assigned to their minor league team in Minneapolis. Willie was hitting great in Minneapolis, so Leo Durocher, the manger of the Giants, called him up to the big league team.

Willie didn’t think he was ready for the big leagues, and he said that to his manager. Durocher disagreed, and Willie proceeded to get just 1 hit in his first 26 at-bats, for a batting average of .038.

“I told you,,” Willie said to Durocher. “I can’t hit the curveball.”

“I don’t care,” Durocher said. “As long as I’m the manager of the Giants, you’re my centerfielder.”

That’s all Willie needed to hear. He didn’t have to worry about being sent back to the minors, and within three weeks his batting average had risen to .322. Turns out he could hit the curveball.

Willie had a presence about him, a grace that I admired. Even at the end of his career, when his body was betraying him and he was performing more out of habit than ability, other players seemed to have a reverence for him. They held him on a pedestal even when his performance no longer deserved it.

For years, I have heard the debates over who was the best baseball player to ever live. There are arguments for Babe Ruth, Henry Aaron, Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams, even Barry Bonds, but none of those arguments have ever convinced me that anyone was better than Willie Mays. He was a great hitter who hit for average and power, a great fielder with a great arm, and he was a great base runner. Others may have been better at one of those things, but no one was as good as him at all of them.

The great Willie Mays died yesterday at the age of 93. He ended his career 50 years ago, which means that he stopped playing when I was just 14 years old. In one sense, it’s sad that in 50 years, I have not seen a better baseball player than Willie Mays. On the other hand, neither has anyone else.

RIP, Willie. Thanks for being such a wonderful part of my childhood.