It was Sunday.
Not just any Sunday. A special Sunday.
Father’s Day — and yes, even when you are a grandfather with grandchildren old enough to have presented you with a great-grandchild but kind enough not to have done so, it remains a special Sunday.
Especially this Sunday.
True, you have spent half your adult life without your father, but none of your childhood, and you know the adult you are on this special Father’s Day Sunday grew out of those childhood days.
This day was special, for the TV before you was flashing reminders of everything that was your father. The Pirates were playing the Dodgers, and if this wasn’t the New York Giants versus the hated Brooklyn Dodgers rivalry that you had grown up on with your father, it was still baseball, and wasn’t it he who had introduced you to the game that had shaped your life?
Jerry Hertzel traveled for a living, hawking women’s blouses to America’s top department stores out of New York’s garment district. In the early days, when he had moved your family from the city into the northern New Jersey suburbs where there was grass and trees and fields in which a little boy could learn to play the game of baseball, he traveled in this overgrown Hudson.
He’d drive from New York to Philly, Philly to Cleveland, Cleveland to Chicago, Chicago to St. Louis, St. Louis to Kansas City ... and then home, all in that Hudson.
He was a long way away, but only a phone call away, and there was that night when you were only 10, your first year of Little League, first year of organized baseball, first year of catching, playing for an established Little League team.
This was serious stuff then, serious enough that you woke up one morning to learn you’d been part of a 10-player trade, going from one team to another with a player who eventually would become a major leaguer.
In those days The Bergen Record, the local paper, one that has grown into a major player in New York covering the Yankees, Mets, Giants, Jets, the NBA and NHL, covered Little League, and there was a story of the trade, a story that said the deal was made because that little kid’s team needed a catcher.
You were the catcher they felt they had to replace. That was one of those teary phone calls of the emergency type, the kind only a father could get a 10-year-old son through.
How many hours had this father spent throwing batting practice? How many hours had he hit pop foul flies until you could catch them behind your back, tricky as that was for a catcher? How long had you talked baseball ... learning why you didn’t try to take an extra base when two runs down, when to call for a fastball or a curve?
Surely this Gerrit Cole you were watching pitch for the Pirates, the one with the 98 mph fastball, didn’t learn any more from his dad, didn’t spend any more hours with him in the backyard playing catch.
Just as baseball was Cole’s life, so it became this father’s son’s life, leading him into a career as a baseball writer, a career he would not trade for anything else.
But there was more on television on this Father’s Day Sunday, the U.S. Open, and all eyes were on Phil Mickelson, a father and a golfer, and in the eyes of this son, as close a person to his own father as anyone could come.
Mickelson was a left-hander, just like Dad, and while he had a prettier golf swing, he owned no more U.S. Open titles.
Dad came to golf later in life, after he’d finished molding his son, first as a ball player, always as a human being. Once he discovered the game of golf, he fell in love with it. By then he traveled by plane and was covering the entire country, bringing his sample case and his golf clubs everywhere he went.
I’d hear tales of playing at Torrey Pines in San Diego or Pebble Beach in L.A. When he was home, he’d head to River Vale Golf Course.
The day before he learned he was suffering from colon/liver cancer that would take his life at just 60, he played 36 holes at River Vale. He never got back to the course and that bothered him far more than the inevitable fate he knew he was facing.
Yeah, Sunday was a special day. He would have loved to have seen young Gerrit Cole beat those Dodgers with homey Pedro Alvarez, who grew up in New York not far from where he grew up, hitting a home run.
And yes, I guarantee he smiled when Mickelson holed a wedge for an eagle to grab the Open lead, probably even heading out to one of those courses in heaven to work on his own wedge to get ready for the day Mickelson joined him for a round there.
Email Bob Hertzel at firstname.lastname@example.org or follow him on Twitter @bhertzel.
It was Sunday.
Mountaineers stun No. 8 Kansas, 92-86
The missing link finally showed itself for West Virginia University on Saturday, maybe just in time to save the season for the Mountaineers.
“Better late than never,” is the way WVU guard Eron Harris put it after freshman center Devin Williams stepped out of the shadows and put together the game everyone has been waiting for in leading the Mountaineers to a crucial 92-86 victory over Kansas.
FSU’s rally falls short against ’Toppers
Twenty minutes into Saturday night’s Mountain East Conference semifinal-round showdown between top-seeded and No. 3 ranked West Liberty and fourth-seeded Fairmont State here at the Charleston Civic Center the Falcons looked down and out.
Fairmont native named next Mountaineer
The riffle has been passed.
Fairmont native Michael Garcia was named West Virginia University’s new Mountaineer Saturday.
The announcement came at the eight minute mark of the men’s basketball team’s eventual 92-86 upset win over No. 8 Kansas at the WVU Coliseum.
HERTZEL COLUMN: Eron Harris bounces back to spark WVU
One minute and forty-seven seconds had ticked off the Coliseum clock on Saturday afternoon and things were off to the kind of start most people had expected, Kansas in the lead, albeit as slender as a one-point lead can be.
That was when Juwan Staten spotted Eron Harris open beyond the 3-point arc.
Staten plans to test NBA after season
To the surprise of no one, West Virginia University guard Juwan Staten is going to explore his opportunities in the NBA at the end of this season, a season in which he has become perhaps the best player in the Big 12.
WVU women outlast TCU to advance in Big 12 tournament
In the afternoon, West Virginia’s men’s team gave up a career-high 41 points to Andrew Wiggins but found a way to tough out a victory over Kansas.
Then Saturday evening, the West Virginia women’s team gave up a career-high 32 points to Zahna Medley but found a way to tough out a victory over TCU in the second round of the Big 12 Women’s Basketball Championships in Oklahoma City.
Fairmont Senior closes out East Fairmont for Section 1 title: PHOTOS
When they cut down the nets Friday night at the Woody Williams Armory, the Fairmont Senior Polar Bears were the ones holding the scissors.
Each player took home a piece of the twine, a small memento from a 59-51 victory over East Fairmont in the Section 1 championship game.
Cooper leads FSU past Bobcats, 70-62
Brendan Cooper played liked a first-team all-league selection even though he strangely wasn't, and Chase Morgan did what he does best in the game's final 1:18 – hit shots.
The result was a 70-62 Fairmont State victory over fifth-seeded West Virginia Wesleyan Friday evening in the quarterfinals of the Mountain East Conference Men's Basketball Tournament at the Charleston Civic Center.
HERTZEL COLUMN: Buie returns to WVU after a year away
It’s nearly every little boy’s dream to become a college football athlete, to play in a stadium before 60,000, 70,000, 100,000 fans, to wear the colors of a university proudly. There are cheerleaders and groupies; there’s your name in headlines, your picture in the newspapers.
WVU looks to back up Huggins’ prediction
It was after Kansas defeated West Virginia University, 83-69, a month ago in Lawrence, Bob Huggins reached into his deep library of inspirational sayings and came out with one from Abe Lemons, of all people, the one-time Texas coach who never was at a loss for words.
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- Mountaineers stun No. 8 Kansas, 92-86