A Picture, A Lamentation
Taken from a blog called “A Conversation on Cool,” this picture of Willie Mays playing stickball in Harlem in 1954 is practically a coolgasm. The soft polo shirt, the believable smile, the flexed muscles and the grinning crowd combine to create a picture worth much more than a thousand words. There’s a lot going on here, and all of it is awesome.
But one cannot avoid a pang of something less grin-ful. Is it nostalgia? Not quite it – a person that wasn’t alive then cannot really miss the time. Perhaps it’s jealousy? But we see great athletes all the time. A combination of the two emotions might describe the feeling. We might be jealous of the grinning children in the back, and that jealousy may be tinged with nostalgia for own youth.
Another picture, then, of a moment from our own time.
To be clear, this is not to suggest the photographs could even be close to equal. One is almost sartorial in nature and its composition and art are there for a completely different aim than the other. One picture is a moment in time, the other more of a documentation that David Wright did, indeed, give some awards to the After School All Stars after hanging out with the children and giving them pointers. And this is not – at all – to denigrate the efforts of Wright and his foundation. His work is important, and good.
But put the two pictures near each other, and some of that nostalgia or jealousy crystallizes into something a little bit too grumpy for this correspondent. Is a moment featuring unbridled (and unplanned) access to a player like Willie Mays possible today? Is there a player today that is such a Man of the People that he could find some kids, join in their local game, and create a moment this cool? As much as we can pride ourselves in the progress we’ve made, has our culture edged out real moments such as this?
Imagine you’re a player (of any sport) driving down a busy street in autumn, 2010. You spot a pickup game, and you want to join in. Then you may think of the demands of your contract, your agent, your publicist, your team, and perhaps even your personal wealth. Would you join in?
H/T: Tommy Bennett
With a phone full of pictures of pitchers' fingers, strange beers, and his two toddler sons, Eno Sarris can be found at the ballpark or a brewery most days. Read him here, writing about the A's or Giants at The Athletic, or about beer at October. Follow him on Twitter @enosarris if you can handle the sandwiches and inanity.
More importantly, if you were that athlete – could you even find a pickup game with some kids? I don’t think you would be able, most kids can’t just hop on their bike with a glove, bat, and ball and head for the diamond and actually find others who want to play too. Young adults in high school and college can still organize to meet their friends and play, but this kind of spontaneity feels dead. There is something pure about hearing “wanna meet after school to play stickball?” that doesn’t happen anymore.
Kids still have little league, but it somehow seems different having their fun regulated by all the adults required to make it happen than the feeling that the first picture gives us.