Perfect Day for Baseball in Every Way

As with all perfect baseball days, this one began with a song.

Stan Musial, 35 years after charming this town with hits, did it with a harmonica. Sending chills through a steamy afternoon, he stood behind home plate at Busch Stadium in a Cardinal red jacket and played, “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

As with all perfect baseball days, this one ended with a little boy.

Returning to my hotel room after witnessing another 381 feet of history, I noticed the message light flashing. I picked up the phone, pushed a button, and heard the recorded voice of a 7-year-old kid who has never really watched baseball.

“Dad, I just saw Mark McGwire’s home run on TV, and in case you missed it, in case you were in the bathroom or something, I want to tell you what it looked like,” he said. “It looked awesome.”

Did it ever. Was it ever. The day, the game, the rattling of the stadium as thousands leaped for joy when that 2-and-0 pitch from Cincinnati’s Dennis Reyes jumped off McGwire’s bat and into the left-field seats.

Greetings from the center of the sports universe, where one man continues turning a big city into a small town, a big game into joyous sandlot, a stagnating sport into the best one, again.

Wish you were here.

Mark McGwire is not inventing vaccines or solving world hunger or doing anything truly important. He only hits home runs. This is only a sport.

But in the history of our country, it is a sport that has served as an important distraction. It is a sport that has soothed. It is a sport that has bonded.

They say that in the 1920s, in the aftermath of the Black Sox scandal, Babe Ruth saved baseball.

They may one day say Mark McGwire, whose 60 homers tied Ruth’s single-season best Saturday, did the same thing.

When that ball left the park at 12:28 p.m. here, causing fans to hug, and McGwire to playfully punch his teammates, and little boys to call their dads, baseball somehow felt different.

It felt like the national pastime again.

“You know what is so great about all this?” asked Harry Dunlop, veteran Red coach. “It’s the first weekend of the NFL season, and people everywhere are still talking baseball. When is the last time that has happened?”

The 22-year-old recent college graduate who grabbed McGwire’s first-inning homer Saturday was talking batting practice.

In exchange for the ball, momentarily famous Deni Allen didn’t want money or souvenirs. He wanted only to be allowed to participate in Cardinal batting practice.

The perfect request for the perfect baseball day.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” McGwire said with a smile.

Later, Jack McKeon, the Reds’ manager, was talking baseball integrity.

In the seventh inning, McGwire came to the plate with runners on second and third, one out, and the Reds trailing, 5-0.

Even with that deficit, McKeon could have been excused for intentionally walking him. Late in the season in those situations, weary managers often do.

But McKeon wouldn’t. Reliever John Hudek struck out McGwire, and the manager laughed.

“We thought about walking him . . . then I also thought about all those people calling on me to heal the country,” McKeon said. “I figured, I would do something for the country and see if that would help the healing process.”

Much, much later, McGwire was talking dignity under pressure.

During a 45-minute interview session after the home run, he showed class and grace, two traits thought impossible of any man during these final days of summer-long scrutiny.

A child reporter from a children’s TV network asked a question, then added, “Will you give me your autograph?”

While such requests are considered in violation all media rules, McGwire just looked down at him and smiled.

“I think there’s a pretty good chance of that,” he said.

McGwire did not avoid the memory of Roger Maris, he embraced it.

“I really believe he’s upstairs watching us,” he said.

He did not avoid the memory of Babe Ruth, he deferred to it.

“It leaves you almost speechless when people put your name alongside his name,” he said. “Hopefully some day when I pass away, I can meet him.”

When McGwire spotted an old friend in the media crowd, he stopped the questioning to address him.

“There’s my man Rod Dedeaux, old Tiger, my coach at USC, right there,” he said, pointing to beaming Dedeaux.

“Fight on,” said the old coach.

After complimenting the devout Cardinal fans--”They are on another level”--he heard cheering from beyond the bullpen outside the interview room.

He then realized the interview was being carried live over the stadium loudspeakers, and that, more than an hour after the game, there were still hundreds of fans listening to him in the hot sun.

He actually blushed.

“Hey, they are cheering out there!” he said.

More cheering.

“They’re still here?” he said.

Even louder cheering.

Realizing the video of his interview was also being broadcast over the center-field scoreboard, he then looked into the camera and saluted them.

The perfect baseball day wound down late Saturday afternoon when McGwire returned to the clubhouse to meet his parents, dutifully sitting on a bench outside.

He would soon call his 10-year-old son, Matt, and perhaps arrange for him to be flown from Newport Beach for today’s game in case Dad makes history.

The family of the late Roger Maris will be here.

The Reds’ pitchers have already proved they will throw strikes.

The sun will be high, the new statue of Stan Musial will be glistening, the nation’s sports fans will be forgetting for a second about Brett Favre, clicking from their new favorite sport to their old one.

All we need now is for Mark McGwire to show up with a couple of freshly baked apple pies while humming the Wabash Cannonball.

Who knows? After every perfect baseball day, one sleeps on the feathery bed of possibilities.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

TODAY’S GAMES

Cincinnati at St. Louis

1 p.m., Ch. 11

Chicago at Pittsburgh

10:30 a.m.