Howdy Pilgrim

Despite the fact that he was a Red Sock his whole career, Ted Williams was very No Mas. Actually, to say that is perhaps to overestimate the No Masian virtues, because Ted Williams was some kind of a son of a bitch, and I mean that with the utmost respect. Basically, we here at No Mas admire his churlishness in the pursuit of excellence and his overall “damn the torpedoes” demeanor. Holms said what was on his mind and walked with a swagger and never backed down from a challenge one day in his life. He was the anti-ARod, John Wayne with a bat.

On September 28th, 1941, Teddy Ballgame played both ends of a doubleheader against the A’s to finish out the season. The day before, Red Sox manager Joe Cronin (evidently having never met Williams before) suggested that Ted sit out the rest of the season to preserve his .401 batting average. One can only imagine how many profanities Williams used to qualify his answer of “no.” He went 1-4 and his average dropped to .399. The next day, however, he picked up the slack, going 6 for 8 on the afternoon to finish the year at .406, making him the first man to hit .400 in eleven years, and the last man ever to do it. Also making him a dude with a pair of cojones the size of basketballs.

September 28th, 1960. Williams is 42 and has announced his retirement, and the Red Sox, a miserable edition, are hosting the Orioles for their last home game of the season. In the eighth inning, the old Thumper thumps one, a 450-foot home run into the right-center field seats behind the bullpen at Fenway. It was his 521st home run in what would turn out to be his last major league at-bat. Still, he refused to come out for a curtain call. Ted Williams was not a curtain call kind of guy.

Among those in attendance that day was John Updike, who soon afterwards wrote an article about the game and Williams’ career for the New Yorker called Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu. It’s not quite as long as Ulysses and about as pretentious, but worth a look if you have a long flight ahead of you.