Duke Snider Dies Just as the Outfield Grass is Greening

Why does it seem that our baseball heroes always leave us or fall ill in the Spring, just when the baseball world is awakening? I don't know what a "good" time would be for such sadness to befall a boy of summer, but Spring seems altogether wrong. Spring Training, in particular, seems an almost obscene framework in which to mourn the legendary men forever flying across the outfield grass on the 8mm reels of our memories. Duke Snider is the latest to leave us too early in the year, passing away today at the age of 84.

Duke was the Brooklyn Dodgers' answer to Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle, and, while Snider may not have finished with the gaudy career numbers or Ruthian mystique of his New York brethren, he fairly owned his borough in the 1950s. Snider twice hit four home runs in a single World Series, including in 1955, when he led "Dem Bums" to a Series victory over the hated New York Yankees. For that October performance alone, Snider was a lock for immortality, but he was much more than the spearhead for ending years of fan misery.

Indeed, all during the 1950s, vehement arguments ensued all across New York and America at large, as boys and men hashed out the relative merits of the three center fielders, and each player brought mighty credentials to the row. Willie was the young kid who could do everything and was one of the Giants' first black players, to boot. Mickey was the Yankees' new golden boy who took the legend baton from Joe DiMaggio and gimped his way to myth status. Snider, meanwhile, was the steady, though not spectacular, performer who did everything the other two did, just maybe not quite as grandly. Still, it was the Duke who led all Major League hitters with 326 homers during the ten years of the 1950s. Sure, it's an arbitrary time-period distinction, but a pretty neat achievement, nonetheless.

Duke Snider will be missed, but his legacy will be remembered eternally by those who saw him play and by those who hear the stories and read the record books. Maybe I'm wrong, though, about my perception that most baseball players pass away in the Spring or during the season. In the hearts of baseball fans, after all, there's always sunshine in center field, no matter what the calendar says.