Here I go again with more baseball lore, and yes, from its Golden Era. When being part of the glamorous Dodgers’ farm system guaranteed first, that without giving 110% attention to each required detail of pro ball, you wouldn’t get to L.A. in the first place; nor hang around long if you did.
Maury Wills’ great memoir “On the Run” outlines what it was like for a little guy miraculously to make it, then scrape himself silly stealing bases in L.A. and preventing hits from getting through at short, so that Koufax et al. could win for this fine ball club. Wills did so much that he’d hear vigorous clapping on the third base side of the stadium emanating from one Frank Sinatra himself! Imagine…
In the off season Maury had no trouble going impromptu to Sinatra’s concerts in Vegas or getting gigs there for his own banjo-playing. He was in awe of the legendary Frank, but to some extent, it was reciprocal, too.
Wills would see Hollywood’s stars suit up annually for a three-inning stint before the regular Dodgers’ contest, and these amateur set-tos attracted the crème de la crème of entertainers – Dean Martin, Annette Funicello, you name it. A fine third baseman for the Dodgers following the Wills era was similarly blown away by that phenomenon in this city of stars.
Ron Cey’s 2023 memoir is superb, too, on just how difficult it was to vault all the hurdles, and make the bigs with this team that in the ‘70s and into the ‘80s was still a powerhouse; just as it had been when Wills shone in the ‘60s. Given that in that entire period, American boys white and black, rural and urban wanted in the millions to play pro ball, as is now less the case.
Via talent and a great work ethic, Cey played well for two Hall of Fame managers in L.A., Walt Alston, a left-over from an earlier glory era in Brooklyn; then an ebullient Tommy Lasorda, who also loved the stars!
When Cey did his thing alongside Steve Garvey et al., who would come into the clubhouse, encouraged and even fed by outgoing Tommy? On many occasions none other than Sinatra, accompanied by his court jester of sorts, who would needle the players there for this bunt foiled the day before, that poor throw, and so forth. Mouthy Mr. Rickles having missed none of it!
And Cey was star-struck himself. Dining one evening at Chasen’s restaurant, he was terrified of going over to Dean Martin at an adjacent table and asking for his autograph; however, Cey’s wife insisted. He still hesitated, then Dean came around and asked for Ron’s autograph, breaking the tension!
On another occasion Cey met Dustin Hoffman and was again nervous announcing himself as Ron Cey; but Hoffman explained that he already knew this topflight player from his own exploits on the field. Tom Hanks was also a big Dodgers fan, filling out score sheets in the crowd like many others did.
On a golf course Cey once saw Frankie Avalon playing nearby, but again, was afraid to go over and introduce himself to the man who was still well known for his role in “Grease” and much else. Cey felt bad for years that he hadn’t had the guts to meet that particular star.
We often think the famed person’s larger than life? But if you’re a Wills or Cey, and the Dodgers are winning pennants, they want to meet you, too? I guess that’s the way it works.
Because deep down, celebrities, hard as it may be to fathom, are still people like the rest of us. But is (or was) L.A. a special case?
Very much so, due to the congeries of talent that was assembled in those sunny environs. When biggies were really biggies? Perhaps.
I admit I, too, am somewhat star-struck re both entertainment and sports icons, but with my focus mainly on what feels like an evanesced “Golden Era.” That’s my weakness (i.e., looking back), when huge celebrities of one sort were in awe of those from a totally different line of work.
Of course one could point today to Taylor Swift and her gridiron beau, Mr. Kelce, a mutual admiration society as well? Most of the time, it seems …