Know how some world events are indelibly chiseled into our memories? We recall hearing about JFK's assassination, or watching Lawrence Taylor break Joe Theisman's leg. For me, Paradise is one such moment.
I was a VISTA volunteer in Indianapolis, living on Meridian Street and drinking in a bar once mentioned by Kurt Vonnegut. The song came on. I yelled for everybody to shut up, but nobody did. A friend said, "Haven't you heard Meat Loaf? Back where you live, he's the toast of the town!"
(They equated upstate New York with street-level Harlem, and, though it was plainly ridiculous, I believed that it elevated my status, so I let them. Yeesh, I was hopeless...)
Well, today, after 24 hours of Bat Out of Hell on REPEAT, I believe Meat Loaf deserves recognition as one of the great Yankee fans of our generation. And here is a way to remember him...
A couple notes:
1. No, the NY Times did not call him "Mr. Loaf" on second reference. They could have. Maybe they should have. But that legend is false. Where is Snopes?
2. If Phil was truly shocked and angry about the meaning of his play-by-play call, he certainly didn't harbor a grudge.
I use a sliding scale to rate Yankee fans. At the low end are the Hillary Clintons, who claim to root for the team as a way to advance.
Then come the Fair Weatherers, who show up for the victory parades. They know there is a player named "Judge," but they think he was recently fired.
There are the Passionates, who follow because of Mickey Mantle or Derek Jeter, or maybe because their dad or mom - or a favorite uncle - loved the Yankees. God bless them.
There are the readers of IT IS HIGH - greatest Yank fans on earth, but for one supreme tier.
There is the Anonymous fan who once put the nails on Ed Whitson's driveway. Whoever he/she is, wherever he/she is, they shall always reign.
If I ever get to Monument Park, I will scatter some nails.
I recall hearing that Meat Loaf once claimed he wanted his ashes someday scattered in Yankee Stadium. Generally, this is just something people say and don't mean. (I tell folks I want my body donated to needy necrophiliacs.) I doubt it will happen. But he did meet the Scooter, and he did take batting practice.
Two out a three aint bad.
Farewell, Mr. Loaf.