The Chris Moeller Archives

Stan Musial 1920-2013

I hardly ever watch St. Louis Blues hockey on television, but tonight I am. I want to feel close to the city of St. Louis. Stan Musial, the greatest Cardinal of them all, died three hours ago at the age of 92. The Cardinals made the public announcement of his death.

It's hard to know what to write about the Man on this occasion, and I've had quite a bit of time to plan it. He's been in ill health for months. I can tell you that I ate in his restaurant on my first-ever trip to St. Louis, and on the day of the first game I ever attended. My aunt and uncle got me his autograph from a golf tournament when I was ten. I saw him throw out or present the ceremonial pitch at an Opening Day, a World Series game, and an All-Star Game. I have lived in jealousy of one of my best friends, who shares his birthday. There are six framed photos of Stan Musial currently hanging in my home.

I met him once-- during just my second day ever working in radio. I was a fresh-faced intern in 1996, not even a college graduate yet, and was invited along with news and sports reporter Chuck Shockley to go to the Iowa Capitol Building, where Stan was getting a public tour of the facility from Governor Terry Branstad as a guest of fellow Baseball Hall-of-Famer Bob Feller. (Now Stan and Feller are both dead and gone and Branstad still occupies that office-- a crippling thought.) The opulence of the surroundings that morning-- the high ceilings, the marble, the ornate decor-- met with the gravity of the moment. One percent of one percent of his fans ever met Stan Musial in such a posh setting. I remember that Branstad was droning on and on about the accomplishments of his public career, something Musial was famous for never doing. "You know I'm the longest-tenured governor in the United States," Branstad boasted. "Oh, that's great... just great," Stan humored, busy signing away for little pug noses like Shockley and me. It should go without saying that I never collected an autograph again from somebody I covered during my journalistic career. On cue, Stan pulled a stack of photo cards from the pocket of his sport jacket, and inscribed, "To Chris, a great fan. Stan Musial." I was so excited about this moment that I stayed in radio for an unconscionable nine more years waiting for another to match it.

You will read tonight and tomorrow, and hopefully the day after that too, that Stan Musial was the living, breathing embodiment of the city of St. Louis, of the Cardinals, and of all that's great about baseball and sports. I like to think of him as what's great about the Midwest too. Our heroes are authentic. He wasn't a sour prick like his contemporary, Ted Williams. During his long retirement (five decades), Musial never demanded to be formally introduced as the greatest player in the long history of his team, like another contemporary, Joe DiMaggio, did-- although he easily was that.

He was married to the same woman for 72 years, had doting kids and grandkids, who were at his side when he died. He played his ass off, and won three championships on the field. He competed with the Cardinals for his entire 22 year career, and then made his home in that team's city until his death, becoming as iconic there as the Gateway Arch. Some equally great men and women never did any of those things, but I just thought it important to point out that he did.

I don't need to describe his baseball legacy in more flowery terms than that. Others will. I don't need to go down the list of his records. He held most of the batting ones in the National League when he retired. And I don't need to tell you that I loved him. He was universally loved.

posted by CM @ 9:02 PM