I'm going to take a brief break from my and my editor's articles to to tell you a little bit about myself. I was born in Hartford Connecticut, on Waterford Street in the South end, to Peter and Maryalice Kelley. Until he passed when I was twelve, I had a live-in grandfather. It was an old-world set-up but I liked it. While my father went to Law School in New Orleans, my grandfather took over many of the fatherly duties-- teaching me to play ball, how to fight and how to be a proper gentleman. My grandfather was one of the most-if not the most--influential figure in my development toward adulthood. He also taught me about baseball.
Hailing from CT, with parents from Hartford and New York, I was naturally born a Yankees fan. However, my favorite ballplayer is Ted Williams--my grandfather's favorite as well. The "Splendid Spitter" was a gruff, tough, "throwback." He was the best hitter of his time, and probably of all time, yet never wanted any more recognition than the average player. He was modest, and like Gehrig, never sought the Press's eye. He was also an American hero, sacrificing nearly half of his baseball career to fly and teach flight in World War II and then Korea. When his plane was struck with flack, he was even able to "limp" it back to friendly territory. The best part of Williams' story is that he was given a special recommendation by the US Government to stay out of World War II and Korea and play baseball-- he didn't accept the offer. For sure, if he didn't sacrifice these years for the greater good, his stats would better support his label- the greatest hitter of all time.
My grandfather liked Ted Williams because he went about his business with his best effort and never sought out any recognition. The man was humble and quiet, but never let his modesty appear snobbish. My grandfather was the same way. He had a man-of-few-words, masculine, gruff about him that didn't take kindly to wise-guys, wusses, cowards, lazies or half-wits. If he was to do something, he made damn sure that it was going to be done right and through. Unlike the Curt Schillings and the Barry Bonds that seek the media's attention every time they simply step on the field, these men did their job better than anyone else and still gave no indication that they were the least bit satisfied when they were finished.
My grandfather also respected Ted Williams and Joe DiMAggio because they were real men--choosing not to stay home and collect their huge paychecks during World War II and Korea. Sgt. Edward Sullivan, my grandpa, was once a soldier as well. He fought the Germans on Doom's Day, and was part of the first wave to storm Utah Beach. He would never discuss the War, but I do know that he was shot in this battle, but still chose to continue to fight for another year (four years in total) anyway. Sometime after this he was awarded the Bronze Star for Valor, just one of his many medals, for rescuing a British pilot from his crashed and burning "Cricket" airplane, that was also taking enemy fire. The one thing he always said about soldiers is a quote that I put on his gravestone and I keep in my heart-- "Old soldiers never die... They just fade away..."
The early part of his life was on par with a major league prospect's life in the 1920's. Edward Sullivan was a fantastic baseball player that hit for a ton of power and was at the top of his highschool in batting--regularly having college scouts surrounding him. For his skill he was given a full-scholarship to the University of Southern California, as well as Columbia, to play baseball. My mother would later tell me that my grandfather would turn down these scholarships because he had to support his family. He saw his father die after being electricuted while working for General Electric, and with two younger sisters and a sick mother, he had to take on the role of male-bread-winner. In those days, women weren't give jobs, so it was up to him to stay in Hartford and feed his family. Instead of the lavish and awesome lifestyle of Professional Baseball, or even just a college degree from a top University, he drove an ice truck, volunteered for the Army and then became a firemen. He never told me about his scholarships for baseball-- my mother did. She found the letters in his deceased sister's attic.
It may sound like I'm simply "blowing up" my family into somewhat of a dream.However, that's not the case. Edward Sullivan was a great baseball player, even better than those that were born to his family after him. He played with both Lou Gehrig and Goose Goslin as a young man, and then would play with Gehrig when the Yankees' first basemen would visit his wife's family in Hartford, Connecticut. He would regularly attend his church with Gehrig as well. He also played a lot of ball against Goslin. By the way, before Goslin was a Hall of Fame outfielder, he was a pitcher. Anyway, my grandfather regularly smashed doubles and home runs off of him. Again, he never would talk about fantastic baseball-gift, out of modesty. Nearly everything I've found out about him has been from friends, family, and documents I found in his family's attic.
You rarely see these type of men anymore, and even more rarely find these traits in a baseball player. Modesty, honor and bravery are rarely put together into one package. I wish my grandfather, Gehrig and Williams were still walking on this earth--and maybe they are...After all, old soldiers never die.
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