By Daniel Dunaief
With temperatures soaring, the large gathering of friends and family used programs to fan themselves.
Sweat dripped down my back as I waited in a wooden chair amid bright sunshine to witness and celebrate my brother’s graduation from Colgate University. Thoughts of my brother mixed with a need to find shade and an ice cold drink.
I had attended several graduations before this one, including my older brother’s and my own from college. I recall my Ward Melville High School graduation being incredibly warm as well, but this one seemed longer and more protracted, perhaps because we had to drive several hours to attend.
I pondered all the phone calls to the 315 area code with my younger brother, who complained about the snow, the ice and the bitter cold temperatures, which was an enormous contrast to the stifling heat of that day.
The commencement speaker, Fay Vincent, was the commissioner of baseball at the time. His tenure started when his predecessor Bart Giamatti died of a heart attack at 51, eight days after banning Pete Rose from baseball for life for gambling on the game.
I thought about Vincent this week when I learned he had died at the age of 86 from cancer. I remember a surprising number of thoughts and ideas he shared during that momentous and proud day in our family’s life.
Fortunately, the sound system on that field was clear enough that I could hear almost every word he said.
He started off by saying that there’s no such thing as a good, long commencement speech. Similarly, there’s no such thing as a bad, short commencement speech.
The overheated audience laughed at both well-delivered lines, relieved that their children’s names would be called fairly soon.
He had three pieces of advice for these graduates. He recommended that they do something good. While that course of action depended on each person’s definition of “good,” he urged people to use their time effectively and to contribute something to society.
He then suggested that people do something well. Merely taking a job, moving on to graduate school, or doing some kind of internship wasn’t enough: graduates needed to commit to completing any task well, whatever that might be.
And, finally, he urged them to do something. That line also elicited considerable laughter from the appreciative crowd, who, by now, was eating out of his hand and wasn’t so sure they wanted this speech to end too rapidly.
He urged graduates not to return home and spend too much time pondering their future. They needed to go out and experience life. And, of course, once they took whatever next steps, they should remember to engage in good work while committing to doing it well.
Recognizing that the commissioner of baseball couldn’t get off the dais without sharing a baseball story, he also offered one about a rookie umpire.
The Houston Astros were playing the Yankees at the Astrodome in front of more than 50,000 adoring fans during their home opener.
Nolan Ryan, the ace of the team and one of the best pitchers in baseball who still holds the record with seven no hitters, was on the mound.
Mickey Rivers, the speedy Yankees center fielder, was stepping up to the plate. The umpire signaled for Ryan, who entered the Hall of Fame in 1999 as a Texas Ranger, to throw the first pitch.
The ball exploded into the catcher’s mitt. The fans waited as the seconds ticked by. The players looked in for the call. The umpire signaled weakly, “strike?” and extended his arm. The crowd cheered wildly as the catcher tossed the ball back to Ryan, who had started out his 27-year career as a member of the New York Mets.
Rivers took a step out of the box and smiled at the umpire. “Hey, it’s okay, blue,” Rivers said. “I didn’t see it either.”
Vincent told the story and offered his advice with such gusto and passion that I can still recall the speech and its effect on people all these years later.
Is it possible that Ryan was on another team during that speech and that another batter shared such relatable words to the umpire? Sure. But, I can remember the message, the charm and the encouragement (and, of course, the searing heat) as if I were sitting in that field yesterday, celebrating my brother’s graduation and appreciating Vincent’s word’s of wisdom.
