So Long, Junior!

I am normally not the kind of person to lionize other people for their sports accomplishments. Scientists, environmentalists, authors, yes, but sports figures...not so much. Perhaps that idea gave way when my boyhood idol Mickey Mantle turned out to be a womanizing alcoholic who, some say, was given preferential treatment for a kidney transplant which ultimately did not prolong his life. The only real quote from my boyhood idol that I repeat to this day is 'If I'd have known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself."
Today's entitled sports starts get nothing from me. I'll admit that I have some admiration for Lance Armstrong...but less because he's won the Tour de France so often as because he has beaten cancer and continues to work for its ultimate eradication. He's the exception, though. However, I will readily admit that there are professional athletes making a gazillion dollars who are pillars of society and a credit to humanity...though we only hear about those who run afoul of every moral and legal code possible then make a travesty of the result. The exception to the rule is Ken Griffey, Jr. whose biggest crime against humanity was wearing a baseball hat backwards and expressing a real joy for playing a game that he made look ridiculously easy.
Griffey retired tonight at age 40 when it was apparent that he wasn't going to play enough to be even remotely effective. He bowed out the way he played the game: with grace and humility. There was never a hint of scandal...he remains faithful to his family and continues to show humility at all times. A sure Hall-of-Famer, he ended his career after 22 seasons, and it's sad to see him go. His impact cannot be measured.
At this point, I have over a hundred of his baseball cards, a signed baseball and more Mariners paraphernalia than I care to keep stored in the basement: he was one of my children's favorite players, and he spent nearly every cent he could scrape together on Griffey items. In eighth grade, he even got Griffey's number 24 cut into his hair at the barber's...which necessitated some earnest dad bluster to keep him in grade school until it grew out. Perhaps nuns just have no sense of humor.
As is has for all of us, age has caught up to Junior, but I know one young man who will always be able to feel proud that his hero maintained his heroism until the very end. I might even plan to take my son to the Hall of Fame induction ceremony in Cooperstown in five years.
Fathers like me appreciate role models who live up to the honor of being one.