I ate the dust where Mickey Mantle walked

I Ate the Dust Where Mickey Walked, October 17, 2010
By R. Rubenstein "RJR" (looking for a place) - See all my reviews


This review is from: The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle and the End of America's
Childhood (Hardcover)
It's extraodinary but the buzz around this novel will not go away. i join the
others who rank this work as excellent without having read one page. I am sure
the author got out there every day to swing a bat, to know what Mantle meant to
us. Did she not walk those hallowed grounds after a game with her dad? Now where
Monument Park sits,I used to pick up tufts of grass by Center Field. I remember
running in the shadows of Yankees Stadium imagining the roar of the crowd. When
Mantle came to bat, Bob Sheppard's laconic voice rose exponentially. "Now
batting, number 7, Mickey Mantle." There was as much booing as cheering, and I
fought my little boy rage against the naysayers. Mantle was everything to us. We
swapped a hundred Dodgers for one 1956 baseball card and put it in our pockets.
When Mick hit a ball, he wanted to murder it. Yes, I am coinvinced he was
commiting murder each time he swung. When he struck out, and it was often, the
boos were unmerciful. When he made out, the ball seemed to hover high over the
stadium before it fell into even an infielder's mitt. He would make outs hitting
the ball 450 feet. Outs. It is almost sacrilege for a 'GIRL' to write about our
hero. Yes, I said it so let the boos begin. But hey, the world has changed and
our heroes need to be imagined all over again.Whatever keeps the spirits of our
immortals alive I am for.

Robert Rubenstein, Author
Ghost Runners, ATTMP and on Amazon.com.