If you're amongst my British readers, you've probably never heard of him. Some younger Americans might not recognise the name. But if you're a baseball fan, you know him. He's "The Man". And if you're a St. Louisan, you love and respect him. If you're a St. Louisan, wherever you are in the world today, you're in mourning.
The sports writers will lead with the statistics. He was, after all, one of the greatest players of all time. 3,630 career hits, 4th on the all time list. Three-time National League MVP. Lifetime .331 batting average. Played in the All Star Game every year of his career, and elected into the Hall of Fame the moment he was eligible. Winner of three World Series as a player, and a fourth the one year he served as a team General Manager.
As legendary as his career was, however, that's not what I'll remember first.
It's that Stan was a good guy.
What an innocuous, overused phrase that is. But let's think about what it means, embodied by the man baseball commissioner Ford C. Frick called "baseball's perfect knight" on the day he retired. Here's a guy who played for the same team, the St. Louis Cardinals, from first game to last. He stayed married to the wonderful Lil from the age of 19 until she died last year. He roomed with his best buddy, Red Schoendienst, all the years they played together, and made him his manager the year he was GM. Faithful to all he believed in.
He was famous for his positive attitude. Excited to go to work every day, convinced anything was possible. Famous for constantly putting others above himself. Humble, never seeking publicity even though it always sought him. Never a cross word. No scandals. No affairs. No dirty dealing. No enemies.
And that was no act. No clever PR manipulation for the fans. St. Louis is too small for that. After playing for us for 22 years, Stan kept his roots firmly anchored in town, growing into a pillar of the community. He was famed for his charitable work and that infectious enthusiasm that always surrounded him. If St. Louisans could elect a king, it would have been Stan.
I was lucky enough to have crossed his path multiple times. When I was perhaps 8 or 9 ... long before I fully appreciated his baseball legend status ... he was just one of the dads of a student in my Mom's art history class. Mom was organising a class trip to the museums in Chicago. Stan, who had some business interest in the upscale Palmer House Hotel, made sure Mom got a ridiculously low rate for the whole class, so that the girls could have a little treat. He made sure we kept that deal as long as Mom hosted that annual trip. Decades. I remember him meeting with her in the early days. A big guy with a big smile, who just radiated gentleness and goodness. Every time I was fortunate enough to be in the same place with him over the years, thanks to school-related activities, it was the same. There was something about simply being near him that made you feel happy.
Unsurprisingly, St. Louisans use Stan Musial as an example of how to live a good life. Turn up on time. Do your best. Never say a bad thing about anybody. Believe anything is possible. Give back to your community. That's why almost every St. Louis kid gets his or her photo taken with Stan's statue in front of Busch Stadium. It's my niece Abby's turn in the shot here.
Two years ago President Obama recognised the merits of the man, not just the baseball player, and awarded Stan the Presidential Medal of Freedom. That's the highest civilian honour, for contributions to society. Because Stan Musial was a good guy. Easy to say, hard to achieve.
May we all strive to follow.
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