#Jennifer frey detroit free press series#
I saw it more clearly a few weeks later, when he appeared at Dodger Stadium on Opening Day for a 30th-anniversary celebration of his epic World Series home run. Left arm wedged close to his side, head slightly ducked, Gibson now takes up less space than a 6'3", 220-pound alpha male ever should. But part also lies in what the disease has done to him specifically: Parky, an incurable, progressive brain disorder that attacks motor function, has made Kirk Gibson smaller. Part arises from the sympathy sparked anytime someone struggles publicly with a disease. Part of this recalibration, of course, stems from the $13.5 million that Gibson has raised for Michigan State and the more than $2 million for Parkinson's research. If not the metamorphosis of his fellow 1980s celebs-Trump? Schwarzenegger?-it's a second act unmatched by the rest of that era's baseball churls. He got an honorary doctorate and cheers on that East Lansing stage and, after a 39-year wait, was inducted last December into the College Football Hall of Fame. Rogers pieties trip from the mouth that once dumped f-bomb abuse on reporters and autograph seekers won't ever lose its novelty, but the world has taken note of Gibson's olive branch and returned it in kind. I'd read sympathetic takes on his ongoing-though reduced-performance as a color analyst on TV, seen the startlingly sweet graduation speech he gave at Michigan State in May 2017, weeks before turning 60.Īmazing, all right. Why should he? I had heard about Gibson's calmer demeanor first as a coach with the Diamondbacks and then as their manager, about his 2015 diagnosis of Parkinson's disease and the endearing way he calls his new opponent Parky. Yes, three decades have passed nothing remains the same. In other words, they increasingly miss his like in Motown and in L.A.-where, snarling at the steepest of odds, he delivered the signature blow in each city's last triumphant World Series run. In other words, you couldn't take your eyes off Kirk Gibson. Tigers catcher Lance Parrish once described Gibson in the clubhouse as "a caged animal." Detroit owner Tom Monaghan, miffed by Gibson's unkempt Viking look, bid his one-time ALCS MVP good riddance in '88 by declaring him "a disgrace to the Tiger uniform." Shrewd, profane, honest and cruel, he leveled any opponent, umpire, teammate or, yes, manager fool enough to get in his way.
The sounds of baseball? In his prime with the Tigers and the Dodgers, in the 1980s, Gibson was hardly your Let's play two! romantic his vibe was about as pastoral as a punch in the face. That was my first direct proof that, maybe, the man's jagged edges had worn smooth.
0 kommentar(er)
