Columnist Dean Juipe: 100 faces, each telling a lively tale

Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at 259-4084 or [email protected]

His is just one of the 100 tiny photos on the single page, but looking at the smiling face of Al Kaline led to what must have been an hour of study and nostalgic feelings.

Beyond Kaline and the reminisces of following his career and of seeing the great man play in the stunningly bright green environs of Tiger Stadium, a very real and identifiable belief resurfaced after being suppressed or discarded so many years ago. It was apparent again Sunday when baseball held its annual Hall of Fame induction ceremonies in upstate New York: There is no better job in this world than playing baseball in the major leagues.

There is a purity to the sport and there is an unmatched tradition. There is a tone that is set by the unhurried pace of the games.

There is the absolutely idyllic setting of ball games in huge stadiums, and of fans that time their arrivals to coincide with the gates opening so as not to miss the ritual of grown men leisurely shagging flies, fielding grounders or taking part in batting practice.

You can see it in Kaline's face and in most of the faces that accompany his on a ballot -- available in Sports Illustrated, at major-league parks and at participating Kmart stores -- that is designed to allow fans to pick the sport's all-century team. In these 100 faces there are 100,000 stories and many of them reflect what a wonderful life these men led.

It's a page of mug shots that elicits multiple emotions, many of which rekindle a treasured past.

Most everyone pictured has a name that seems perfectly suited for a ball player. Al Kaline sounds like a player's name. So do Gabby Hartnett and Goose Goslin and Frankie Frisch, let alone Joe DiMaggio, Willie Mays and Cool Papa Bell.

Not all of us have names befitting a ball player. Dean Juipe obviously does not sound like a ball player's name. But the men on the ballot sheet were blessed, as if it were preordained, with handles like Yogi Berra and Brooks Robinson and Jimmie Foxx that roll off the tongue amid visions they knew they were lucky while figuratively remaining one of the boys.

And the faces complete the imagery, especially when the subject is in black and white and from a bygone era when playing was thought to be a privilege of sorts. These are faces with expressions that reflect men who are feeling fortunate, men who played the game hard and who may have kept the throttle open when the crowds were out of sight as well.

They didn't begrudge having to work a "regular" job in the offseason and they weren't especially mindful of endorsements or outrageous perks. They look as if they had fun with their celebrity and finished off many a night with still another round of beers.

Appropriately, even the modern players on the ballot have the look down pat. Is there any doubt guys like Greg Maddux and Tony Gwynn couldn't be picked from a lineup and identified as baseball players?

Of course not all of these men were saints and a few look fairly haggard, as if they heard the sound of "last call" far too many times. Yet their legacies endure, and to see them all on a single page as the greatest players of the 20th century is a reminder of the passionate, almost romantic, hold they can still claim over those both young and young at heart.

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