Saturday, June 18, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Speech given at Brighton High School's graduation
REMARKS FOR BRIGHTON HIGH SCHOOL COMMENCEMENT
Superintendent David S. Doty
June 7, 2011
Maverik Center
From the time I was a little boy, I have loved sports. I love the drama, the competition, and the sounds, smells, and tastes of the stadium, whether the game being played is football, basketball, soccer, or hockey. I particularly like baseball, in part because I will never forget the excitement I felt the day my dad took me to my first major league game at Wrigley Field in Chicago. I have been a Cubs fan ever since.
I also like baseball because its heroes are legendary, and one who has always inspired me is the great Lou Gehrig. Because of his strength and stamina, Gehrig was nicknamed the “Iron Horse,” and set a record that many thought would never be broken by playing in 2,130 consecutive games from June 1, 1925 to April 30, 1939.
But Gehrig is one my heroes not because of his tremendous skill and physical strength, but because of his outstanding character. A couple of stories illustrate the remarkable nature of his integrity and unselfishness.
According to one of Gehrig’s biographers, Jonathan Eig, Gehrig’s teammate, Babe Ruth, had demanded and accepted a $70,000 contract prior to the 1927 season, even though his play was often erratic and his off-the-field behavior abhorrent. Gehrig, however, never got obsessed with the money and the fame. He never used an agent, and never negotiated his pay. Eig writes:
“Gehrig never got caught up in the fashions of the day. He was too cheap to buy snappy clothes, too shy to be lured by the trappings of celebrity, too meek to demand a greater share of the wealth around him. Not yet a star, not yet rich, and not yet convinced he would have a long career in baseball, he was still living with his parents in an apartment in Morningside Heights at the start of the ’27 season. When his contract arrived by mail—offering $8,000 for the year—he read, signed, and returned it without question or complaint. The money was more than enough to take care of his parents, and that’s what mattered most. The newspapers were reporting that a couple of reserve players—catcher Benny Bengough and outfielder Bob Paschal—would also get $8,000 each. But Gehrig was not insulted. He was happy to have a job in baseball.”
Jonathan Eig, Luckiest Man (Simon & Schuster 2005), p. 86.
Gehrig’s sportsmanship was also impeccable, and at the height of his career he understood the power of his influence on those around him. Eig tells the following story about Gehrig’s encounter with a lowly rookie in 1934:
“William ‘Dutch’ Fehring played only two and half innings in the big leagues. His moment of glory arrived in 1934 as a catcher for the White Sox, and he came away from the experience with a vivid memory of Gehrig’s strength and determination. Fehring was behind the plate in the seventh inning of a game played on June 25 at Yankee Stadium. As Gehrig stepped up to bat, the rookie was in awe. The pinstriped legend looked like a giant, Fehring recalled. The Yankees were ahead by eight runs, the game all but over, which is the only reason Fehring was getting a chance to play. Gehrig had already hit a homer, a double, and a single in the game. He was playing with a chipped bone on the big toe of his right foot—the result of a foul ball from his own bat. He probably should have taken a seat on the bench and rested. Instead, he dug in and whacked a deep drive to right field. Fehring rose from his crouch and followed its arc. ‘It was out there a mile,’ Fehring said.
“But the ball hooked just right of the foul pole. Gehrig was already in his home-run trot and approaching second base when the umpire, George Moriarty, waved his arms and shouted “Foul ball!’ Gehrig returned to the plate, picked up his bat, and hissed at Moriarty. ‘You’re taking food off my table,’ he said.
“On the next pitch, Gehrig hit the ball hard again, beyond the reach of center fielder Mule Haas. As Haas took off after the ball, Gehrig lowered his head and steamed around the bases. Even with his injured foot, he still moved pretty quickly. Fehring watched Gehrig touch second base and sensed that he had no intention of stopping, that he wanted to reclaim the homer he felt the ump had taken away. The relay went from Haas to Al Simmons to Joe Chamberlin to Fehring. Fehring, in his first inning of big-league ball, was determined not to blow it. He clutched the ball with both hands, turned to face the freight train chugging down the tracks, and braced himself for a collision. Gehrig could have tried to knock the rookie on his rump and jar the ball loose, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slide. He could see he had no chance, and he accepted his fate gracefully. Fehring applied the tag. Gehrig jogged back to the dugout.
“Fehring, who never played another game in the big leagues, would brag about the putout for the rest of his life. But he wasn’t aware—even at the age of ninety—that by tagging Gehrig, he made a small but important mark in the baseball record book. When a batter is thrown out at the plate trying for a home run, he still gets credit for a triple. Gehrig’s triple meant that he had hit for the cycle that day—with a single, double, triple, and home run. It was the first time he had ever accomplished that feat.”
Jonathan Eig, Luckiest Man (Simon & Schuster 2005), pp. 182-83).
Yet Gehrig is perhaps most well known for the grace, humility, and gratitude he demonstrated in the face of his terrible illness. Just two weeks after Gehrig was diagnosed at the Mayo Clinic as having amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, the Yankees invited him to address the crowd gathered at Yankee Stadium on July 4, 1939 for “Lou Gehrig Day.” Standing at home plate, surrounded by his teammates, Gehrig leaned into the microphones and said:
“For the past two weeks, you’ve been reading about a bad break. Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. I have been in ballparks for seventeen years and have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans.
“When you look around, wouldn’t you consider it a privilege to associate yourself with such fine-looking men as are standing in uniform in the ballpark today? Sure, I’m lucky. Who wouldn’t consider it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrow? To have spent six years with such a grand little fellow as Miller Huggins? To have spent the next nine years with that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Who wouldn’t feel honored to room with such a grand guy as Bill Dickey? When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice versa, sends you a gift—that’s something. When the groundskeepers and office staff and writers and old timers and players and concessionaires all remember you with trophies—that’s something. When you have a wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles against her own daughter—that’s something. When you have a father and mother who work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body—it’s a blessing. When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed—that’s the finest I know.
“So I close in saying that I might have had a bad break, but I have an awful lot to live for.”
Jonathan Eig, Luckiest Man (Simon & Schuster 2005), p. 317.
The accomplishments of the Brighton High School Class of 2011 over the past three years are too numerous to mention here today. You have distinguished yourselves in the classroom, on the athletic field, and in the international arena as you became the first public school in the United States to pilot the Face to Faith program through the Tony Blair Faith Foundation and the First Amendment Center.
But what impressed me most was the support and love that the Bengal boys soccer team gave to one of their teammates, Jerry Dearden. When Jerry’s father, Hugh, caught a bad break this past year with a diagnosis of terminal cancer, the entire team rallied around Jerry and his dad to give them strength in a time of terrible tragedy. The team’s support continued all the way through the end of a heartbreaking double-overtime loss in the state championship game in May, when, instead of dwelling on the score, Jerry’s teammates went with him after the game to the cemetery to place the “HD” armbands they had worn all season on Hugh’s grave.
Such character is the epitome, I believe, of what public education is all about—learning together to be good neighbors and compassionate citizens. Those of us who work in public schools often emphasize how important it is to teach young people well, but the reality is that more often than not, it is the students who teach us.
I want to thank Jerry and his teammates for their wonderful example, because it is something that I will never forget. And because I don’t want them ever to forget, today I am giving the inaugural “Superintendent’s Award of Distinction” to the Brighton boys’ soccer team for Demonstration of Exemplary Character.
Will Jerry, his mom, Diane Dearden, Coach Boyer, and the senior boys on the team please join me on the stand?
PRESENTATION OF AWARDS AND FLOWERS TO JERRY’S MOTHER
Graduates, I congratulate you all, and wish you all the best in your future endeavors.
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