By: The Virgin Islands Free Press Editorial Board
The “Crucian Telephone” rang today with news from the North. Mickey Lolich, the gritty, left-handed heart of the 1968 Detroit Tigers, has thrown his final pitch at 85.
To the world, Lolich was the guy who won three games in a single World Series—a feat of endurance that seems as impossible today as launching a Starship from a backyard. But to those of us who appreciate the “A2s” of the world, Lolich was something more. He was the man who didn’t care about being the flashy A1 in the black GMC Envoy. He was the one on the power walk, doing the work while others whizzed by.
I think of my friend Bernett “Cobra” Stancliffe, who I hope is still out there somewhere, likely leaning against a fence and talking baseball. Cobra and Mickey belonged to the same tribe: the Iron Men. They are the ones who put up with the loud talkers, the dreamers, and the “Abbie Hoffmans” like me.
In a world of $1.25 trillion mergers and “Gilded Orbits,” let’s take a second to remember the guys who showed up, pitched on two days’ rest, and told us that even the “fat guys” can be heroes.
Rest easy, Mickey. And to my friends still living—thanks for not speeding past me on the East End. I’m still walking.
In the 50s and 60s, before fiber-optic cables and 18°N slingshots, the USVI and Curaçao were connected to the mainland by the crackle of the radio. Between shifts at the refinery, men like Bernett ‘Cobra’ Stancliffe would listen to the legends. It wasn’t just a game; it was a lifeline.
When the Yankees came down for those exhibition games to test their mettle against the USVI’s best, it wasn’t a vacation for them—it was a battle. Our ‘native sons’ didn’t just play on the fabled diamonds of the Bronx; they brought that Bronx energy back to the dusty fields of St. Croix.
THE EDITORIAL BOARD Virgin Islands Free Press 🍬🚀📐
