Triumph and Tragedy in Mudville Read Online Free Page B

languages and customs so far as they could, and to assimilate only to the minimal degree required for basic success and solvency. Others consciously abjured their natal tongues and traditions and struggled to speak only English and to learn and practice the history and customs of their adopted land. This second assimilationist group tended to dismiss the traditionalists and newcomers who had not yet made up their minds as “green horns” or “greenies.” My maternal Hungarian grandparents (the relatives I know best and who served as my surrogate parents during World War II, when my father fought in Europe and Northern Africa) were devoted assimilationists who spoke Hungarian only when they didn’t want me to understand, and who took great pride in their accommodation to America. I doubt that they ever understood the limits to their success, particularly as expressed in strong accents that they actively denied, but never lost nonetheless.
    Immigrants who opted for assimilation tended to choose particular American institutions or customs as public foci for their commitments. Some veered toward politics of democratic systems that they and their families could enjoy for the first time—as in, for example, the domination of local governments in several major cities by new Irish and Italian citizens. (The WASPs of old Brahmin Boston feared the death of their beloved city when poor Irish immigrants took local political power away from traditional sources, but the Hub persevered and prospered.)
    Particularly for men, and especially commonly for Jewish men, a dedication to a distinctively American sport provides the major tactic for assimilation. The three Bs in particular (boxing, basketball, and especially baseball) assumed great importance in the lives of many Jewish and other immigrants. Few Jews grow very tall, so we were probably not destined for basketball triumph as players (although Abe Saperstein put together and coached the Harlem Globetrotters, and many important teams in the early history of basketball—notably the SPHAs, for South Philadelphia Hebrew Association—were formed and staffed by Jewish players).
    Boxing and baseball offered stronger possibilities, where champions like Benny Leonard, Max Baer, Moe Berg (a mediocre player, but absolutely outstanding character) and especially Hank Greenberg and, later, Sandy Koufax could become heroes and role models for entire generations, and where even your average city street kid (like me) could play with reasonable success. As a happenstance of personal contingencies, the men of my strongly assimilationist maternal side took up baseball as their major sign and symbol of “Americanization,” and became serious and knowledgeable fans, eager to pass this new tradition to subsequent generations.
    Thus, baseball became a centerpiece of family life in my house-hold—and, as several essays in this book acknowledge and discuss, I take pride in being enmeshed within an unbroken string of four generations of serious baseball rooting. The sequence began with my maternal grandfather, Papa Joe, a dedicated Yankee fan from, by his testimony, 1904, when he thrilled to Jack Chesbro’s forty-one victories in a single season—a pitching record that will stand unless the game undergoes radical changes in scheduling and counting—until his death in 1953. All three of his sons followed in serious fandom, although his only daughter, my mother, never really caught the bug despite a personal crush on Mel Ott. (“She thinks a foul ball is a chicken dance,” if I may quote a misogynist line from my father.)
    Moving to the other side, my father passed his boyhood rooting for the great Yankee team of Ruth and Gehrig—and his dramatic and detailed memories provided me, a lifelong skeptic in religion, with my closest insight into the potential nature of a deity. In this familial context, my own adoption of serious interest can scarcely be deemed surprising! I must also confess to a