Statues of baseball players: they’re not just the place where you meet your buddy who has the extra ticket or a convenient location for the pigeons to poop. They’re actually becoming an increasingly popular fixture in ballparks, and the New York Times is on it. (They’re always ON IT, actually).
For reasons that I can’t quite explain, but likely having to do with a fear of mortality and all of that, I have never been able to avoid thinking of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias” whenever I see a statue of some historical figure. I realize that the idea is to immortalize these men and women and serve as a reminder of their feats, but I always get an image of Earth in the post-Martian invasion, with these statutes consisting of two vast and trunkless legs of stone. Or bronze. Or whatever. It feels like we’re trying too hard to fight against time and deep in my heart, I know we’ll never win.
Sorry. I’ll admit that this is my particular neurosis, so I’ll just move along now.
Less morosely, I found the description of how some of the artists make these ballplayer statues to be quite neat. The examples of those crafted with reference to live models, as opposed to photos, are pretty cool:
Cella supplied a plastic bat for Thomas (White Sox) so he could hold his position, with arms extended. Robin Roberts (Phillies) had turned 80 when he mimicked his pitching style for Frudakis, and Harmon Killebrew (Twins) posed in his 70s for Mack. The son of Richie Ashburn (Phillies) stood in for his deceased father. Mack was driving when he spotted a man with a body shape similar to that of the deceased Kirby Puckett. The stranger became the model for Puckett.
I wonder if the stranger was flattered or insulted. Great ballplayer. Not the best body shape ever, though his statue is rather flattering.
Anyway, neat read.