The Talmud tells the story of Alexander the Great, who after conquering far-flung lands, was essentially the Emperor of the entire world. He instituted an interesting practice of spending some time in each country conducting a special court of justice for unusual cases that did not fit into the regular system. In one principality he was presented with the following dispute.
And this year it truly is a “World Series,” because it is only unselfishness like this that builds a world of greatness.
One man had sold a piece of land to his friend based on its appraised value in terms of real estate and agriculture. When the buyer started working it, he had the idea of digging deeper than usual, in hope of finding a well. Instead, on his way downward with the shovel, penetrating below the usual depths reached in farming, he heard that lovely clink that signals buried treasure. (READ MORE from Jay Homnick: Hard of Hearings)
Sure enough, there was a fortune in precious metals secreted in the bowels of the earth. Some long forgotten owner, his identity buried along with his bounty in the sands of time, had entrusted a lifetime of financial success to depths beyond the range of human thievery … but also beyond the reach of inheritance. The most recent seller had never known what had lain beneath the land he had owned, worked, and sold as a field.
Alexander was shocked at the arguments in the case. The buyer was disclaiming rights to his find, believing that it rightfully accrued to the seller. That seller, on the other hand, refused to accept the money: he had bought the field without cognizance of subterranean vaults and had sold it in the same spirit. Alexander was so impressed by a society that could cultivate such integrity, that he left it to govern itself.
This past Saturday night, a world record was set in the sport of Major League Baseball, a record for unselfishness. For those not in the know, herewith a quick update.
The Arizona Diamondbacks, representing the National League in the Fall Classic for the first time since 2002, have two add-on players on their roster, Tommy Pham and Jace Peterson. These “add-ons” are picked up by teams who think they have a chance at winning their way into the postseason playoffs. Instead of keeping two or three kids on the bench to get some major league experience at season’s end like the weaker teams do, they spend some money to buy veteran players who have a special skill, often relief pitching or outfield range or pinch-hitting. These “utility players” occasionally get a chance for heroics, either in the critical games at the end of the regular season or in the playoffs themselves.
As it turns out, Pham has been on a streak, hitting his way into the regular lineup and playing every day all the way into the World Series. Peterson has been riding the bench and has not played one single solitary minute of the postseason. It is exciting to be part of a luxury machine, like an automobile or a great sports team, but it is hardest to be there as the spare tire. Peterson will get a World Series ring to show his grandchildren, but if he never gets on the field, that ring will always leave a bittersweet taste on his tongue. (My friend, Alan Veingrad, has a Super Bowl ring from his days with the Dallas Cowboys, but sat on the sideline for that biggest game of all, which irritates him to this day.)
Yes, Alexander the Great, there still are some good citizens, some solid people, some devoted friends.
This brings us to Saturday night, Game Two of the World Series between Arizona and Texas. The latter team had won the previous game, but this time the early lead of 2-0 went to Arizona, and they clung to it tenaciously, even when it shrunk to 2-1. They began building it inning by inning, to 3-1, 5-1, 7-1. As the game was wearing down, with Texas beginning to accept the inevitable, there was some drama building, and it concerned Tommy Pham. He had four hits in four at bats to tie the all-time record. “All-time” is a long time, back to 1900, the year my father’s mother was born in New York City.
In his fifth at-bat, Pham would have a shot at doing what none of the greatest stars had ever done, getting his fifth hit in one World Series game. The stadium was agog, waiting for Tommy to gun for the record. Instead Jace Peterson strode to the plate as a pinch-hitter. Agog melted into aghast. How could the Manager do such a terrible thing, take the bat out of Tommy’s hands, steal his chance to go where no man had gone before? (READ MORE: Makin’ Whoopi Gone)
No, my friends, it was not the Manager who made that call, It was Tommy himself, who wanted to be sure that his friend would not leave this World Series with a hole in his heart. Yes, Alexander the Great, there still are some good citizens, some solid people, some devoted friends. And this year it truly is a “World Series,” because it is only unselfishness like this that builds a world of greatness. If not swords into ploughshares, then at least dropping the bat and passing the baton. And as it turned out, it WAS Tommy Pham who went where no man had gone before.