Jackie and I were in New York City a few days ago to take in the feel of the city at Christmas. We did all the usual things - Rockefeller Center, saw the Tree with required picture, Saks' windows, St. Patrick's church (where God has a small apartment, but He's on Mercury now getting some sun while the church is renovated), great meal, and then I could not take it anymore - Stop Badgering Me. OK, maybe it was my own fault. I wore my Mets heavy jacket and cap. It's warm with tons of pockets, and the cap fits on my head. Normally I just wear a baseball cap, and generic but matching coat. But this time I got it full blast.
If you haven't been to Manhattan recently, you'll notice that its slightly more aggressive in its marketing. Nearly every street has some huckster(s) trying to get the gullible couple(s) into a bar, bus, and if you are wearing something slightly noticeable like I had, you would be asked to stop and talk about the Mets (Hey, you, from Queens! Come on in! Mets got Grandy! Ask you a question [this type of marketing is in every mall - its the courtesy in us to that makes us stop, with the obligation to buy], and hey, man get your picture with Mickey Mouse (for tips - stick them in Mickey's pouch), even if it's the slightly psychotic Mickey coming down from a heroin fix. And these two:
I had read the article (written by former pitcher Pat Jordan, a long time Seaver friend and author of A False Spring) the night before we went to New York. And I thought if Seaver, age 69, could get lost in this city, what luck do I have? There's a lot of MS in Lyme diease.
Seaver has his "cloudy days" and his wife of so many years Nancy helps him with notes, and he reminds himself with notes. And he does have some short term memory loss. I do, too. Mr. Seaver has his family close, and while Jackie and I are (or have to be) more self sufficient, we have angels in place as the other Tom does. And he does okay. We do okay.
I would challenge any of the folks dressed up as faux celebrities of TV and movies around Times Square to try and hit Seaver's fastball, hell, even now. I would gladly pay the $20 tip. Cookie Monster can catch and Elmo can stand there terrified. I'd like to see that.