Benching Of A Legend

On the field, during workouts, he tries to be as he once was, too, filled with small jokes and with laughter. "Do you know what sex is?" he may ask. "That's what Poles put potatoes into." Then, lest he offend: "You know I'm Polish."

Sometimes, while playing catch, he shows his pitches—he was a pitcher in the low minor leagues 23 years ago. "Fork ball," he'll say. "Me and [Elroy] Face. Next time I come back it's gonna be as a pitcher."

But once in a while pride, before now the unseen side of Musial, breaks through. He was chatting at a batting cage recently when Jim Toomey, the Cardinals' publicity man, approached and asked broadly if he was telling the story of his life.

"Yeah," someone said. "He's up to a Donora sandlot game in 1935."

"What did you do," Toomey asked, "get four hits?"

"I'll tell you this, buddy," Musial said, quite loudly. "You can bet I got two."

Since his July blaze, Musial has slipped somewhat. "One thing I know about him now," Hemus says, "is that when he gets real tired one day's rest isn't enough. If he needs it, he'll get a week off. If he goes real bad, he'll get plenty of time to get strong again."

The old 154-game-a-year Musial is vanished. The swift base runner, whose sloped shoulders suggested the contours of a greyhound, is slowed. The great batter, whose forte was consistency, now hits in spurts. Yet, in sum, this season makes for a graceful exit. Musial wanted to go out with a respectable year, and through concentrating on pitchers and conserving his own energies, he seems likely to achieve this.

But ahead lies one more trap—another season. Musial has not formally committed himself to 1961, but informally he drops hints that he may play again. He relishes his life in baseball, and when he hits well he seems to feel that he can go on hitting indefinitely. "Maybe my wheels are gone," he says, "but I'll be able to hit like hell for a long time."

Perhaps, but anyone who watched his prideful struggle this summer must wonder. Time presses. The benchings can only get longer; the comebacks still more labored. He has been a fine and gracious man, Stan Musial. It would be nice to see him say farewell with a wave, a grin and a double lined up the alley in right center field.