Butch & Desmond

This doesn't happen very often. When it does (for some strange reason) I am on it like a beggar on a dime. Maybe you have heard this one before, as I like to use it in class when the topic or theme suggests a comment on the need for vigilance. To not be derailed by defeat, never to surrender and never, ever give up.

Not to be sidetracked, but there is a difference between quitting and making a smart choice. A perfect example of this took place less than an hour ago, when my painful left piriformis DEMANDED that I cut the intended 120 mile ride in half. I felt bad, weak, wimpy and defeated. Until the recognition that cranking out a long ride at this juncture of the season, nursing compromised hip and ankle joints, and not fully recovered from the prior days sessions, isn't being courageous, it's being soft. One of the surest ways of turning iron to rust that I know. This alchemy can transform gold to ore as well as the reverse. So learn. Train smart. Differentiate injury from muscular soreness, critical mass from excess and consider the cliche about digression being the better part of valor. Fools ride on when wise men have a beer. This is an art form. But back to the story…..

In the late 70s and early 80s Butch Wynegar was a mediocre catcher for the Minnesota Twins, New York Yankees and California Angels. He had 65 career HRs. One of them I remember vividly. It was at Yankee Stadium, postseason, fall. Until his final AB Butch was an ohfer, oh for four, looking weak, outclassed and lost. I remember the ABC camera zooming in on him from the on-deck circle as the opposition intentionally walked the batter before him. This, in case you aren't baseball savvy, is an insult, of, ahem, major league proportions. But it was good baseball, smart, playing the odds. Wynegar was poker faced, but I saw a spark, the slightest ember from an exhausted fire. It was late in the game, tied, a championship on the line. I edged forward in my chair, tilted my head and wondered if I had read his body language correctly, More importantly, read his spirit attitude correctly. Butch headed towards the plate (wondering I am sure if his manager was going to send in a pinch hitter in his place). Remember Butch to this point had failed to even make contact in four prior trips. He dug in, Tony and Joe providing extraordinary verbal accompaniment to enhance the drama. My mouth was dry. A million people watched, wondering which colors the heroes would eventually wear.

The count went to three and two. Runners were off. Game on the line. One pitch. It was almost in slow motion as Butch took an inside, belt high fastball and launched it into the second deck of Yankee Stadium for a walk off homer. I watched the ABC cams zoom to his expression as he rounded second on his grand tour. It was not joy. It was not happiness. It was not in celebration for his accomplishment. It was of vindication. Redemption.

I had to go outside and think things over. WOW.

Fast forward thirty years to yesterday. Eastern Washington is manhandling the University of Washington. David vs Goliath and Davey has the mojo. Their receivers, at six foot four are having a field day against our five foot nine corners. It is ugly (if you are a Dawg). Desmond Trufant is getting picked on unmercifully by the Eagles QB. With less than a minute to go in the game the UW is up 30-27 and Eastern has the ball at their own 10. Should be able to call it in. But the Eagles start their pass game and before you can say, ten yard down and out, they have the ball on the Husky 10 with 7 seconds left. Time for one more play.

I am watching in disbelief. I want to grab a helmet and go down to play some D myself. I know what is going to happen, fade route to the corner and let the receiver out-jump our corner (Trufant) and Eastern wins the game as the clock expires.

Snap to shotgun. No pass rush. QB looks left and then with his incredibly quick release lofts to the right corner. Ball in air and my heart is at max. But he slightly under throws and Trufant plays it to perfection (see Seattle Times photo) keeping the receiver to the outside and intercepts in the endzone to save the day. Goat to hero on a single play.

Butch and Desmond. Never say die. Hang in there. Don't give up. Keep trying. Be persistent.

And vindication and redemption could be yours. Happy Labor Day.