Sons and livers

Billy Joe Martin sat on the mound of an empty high-school baseball field in Arlington. He's always seemed alone since his dad died that Christmas day six years ago.

The younger Martin had been working with kids earlier in the day, showing them how to bat. Being a good example.

Now he is talking about the great games he played on this field while playing second base for Arlington High.

His dad and his dad's best friend, Mickey Mantle, just about inseparable from the time they were in their twenties, would stand off to themselves, and yes, they'd often been drinking.

But drinking was part of life for them.
It was also a part of Billy Martin's death--and perhaps will be a part of Mickey Mantle's.

The dust is packed hard, and the younger Billy toys with a ball, looking a heck of a lot like his dad when he takes those little round glasses off.

Every day of his life is spent trying to do things that would make his daddy proud, and trying not to do the things his daddy did.

And now is a good time for thinking. The man who was all but a second dad to him is over at Baylor recovering from a liver transplant.

Those two drank about every day, and they drank a lot.
I ask if their drinking ever embarrassed him in any way.
And it's like the memory is yesterday.

"You know, the only time either of them upset me was when I was nine, and I got these new fishing lizards," he says, and moves his thumb and forefinger across an imaginary lizard as he describes the colors, as easily as describing the shirt he wears today.

"I was so proud of those lizards, and I asked Mickey to show me how to put one on a hook.

"They'd been drinking Scotch all day, and Mickey took the lizard and pulled its legs off. They thought it was so funny. I know I cried. I remember crying. I was nine, and those lures meant a lot.

"But that was the only time. Drinking was just a part of life then."
Now there are the daily calls to Mickey's sons. They are close to losing their father to alcohol abuse. They may have come close to losing themselves, before entering rehab.

And there is Billy Joe Martin, the son of Billy Martin, who lost his dad on Christmas Day in 1989. His dad was drunk, with a buddy, and they wrecked a pickup, and Billy died.

You know--I say to Billy--it's weird, but I never thought of your dad having a drinking problem until he died. I knew Mickey drank a ton, too, but until he said he had a problem, I never thought of him as having a problem.

Let's be honest, every time a lot of us saw either of them socially, they were pretty toasted--but so were most of us who saw him.

You know, I remember talking your daddy out of his 10-X beaver cowboy hat at a party when I was 18. He was standing there looking like a commercial, with a Miller in his hand.

That's the way everyone acted back then, in the early 1980s. "It was a part of baseball," Billy says. "That's what you did.

"They'd go out and drink. They were from the '50s. Everyone drank back then--in movies, everyone had a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Fall-down drunk was funny in their generation.

"It wasn't recognized as being so bad for you. I remember starting to dip snuff when I was nine. We didn't know it caused cancer."

I told Billy about the time we were at this wedding when he was seven, and I was 10. His parents let him drink champagne. I used his consumption as a plea to my Southern Baptist daddy--"See, Billy and those boys are drinking."

"Yes," said Daddy, "but that is Billy Martin's son."
That was all I needed to hear. I knew just what he meant in those words--they were a baseball family.

Two sets of rules, and most of society who knew anything about baseball knew the parameters.

Who's to blame Billy and Mickey if they followed the norm--albeit with a bit more gusto than the rest?

"You know," says Billy, "Kurt Menefee said Mickey shouldn't get a liver because he ruined it himself.

"Well, what if Kurt needs a heart transplant in 40 years because he ate so much fat? Should he not be allowed to have a new heart?

"How can any kind of a Christian person say that? That's part of life--having a chance to say you did something wrong and get a second chance, right down to the end of your life."

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Jennifer Briggs

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