At First, He Had Second Thoughts, Then Thought Again

As the poet Whittier had it 140 years ago, “Of all sad words of tongue or pen/The saddest are these ‘It might have been!’ ”

It’s as true in sports as it is in life. The fighter who “could have been a contenduh!” The football player who flunked the college boards. The great playground player who fell in with the wrong crowd.

Sometimes, it’s a wrong turn the player can make. I mean, what if Michael Jordan had opted for a career in baseball instead of basketball? Suppose Babe Ruth had remained a pitcher?

That’s what I was thinking when I interviewed one of those guys who could have been any kind of great if he didn’t just take the wrong fork in the road.

He was a world class second baseman. Speed, sure-handedness, could make the pivot with the best of them. Could have made the world forget Snuffy Stirnweiss. He was that good. Great bat manipulator, threat to steal, ideal leadoff man.

He grew up on Long Island and he was a big Yankee fan. His father used to throw him curveballs even in the snow. Taught him patience at the plate.

Baseball is an heirloom sport. It’s a father-son bonding and, one day, his father took him into Yankee Stadium, the Vatican of baseball. He remembers the event to this day with goose bumps. There were the storied triple-deck stands with the greening copper filigree on the top deck and the statues in center field. He remembers the rush when he emerged from the tunnel onto that green and white playing field. Paradise. All that was good in the world.

He knew right then he wanted to be a Yankee infielder. That day, the 8-year-old fan knew his future when he saw Mickey Mantle hit a ball off the top of the filigree.

Alas! It’s the same old story. His dreams never realized. At first, they went along swimmingly. He got this scholarship to Marshall University to play baseball and was well on his way. Until, one day as he was taking the relay, a baserunner crashed into him. He was airborne and he could hear the bones cracking on the way down.

He also spotted this sign out in left field that said “Auditions” and gave time and place for tryouts for a school play.

And that’s when things took a turn for the worst. He gave up the grand old game and he changed careers and reluctantly gave up his childhood dreams and faced reality. The saddest of words of tongue or pen.

You look at him today and your heart goes out to him when you think of all the bubble gum cards he could have been on, of all the hits he might have gotten off Nolan Ryan or Fergie Jenkins or somebody. The difference he could have made to the Yankees.

He gave it all up for a career where there were no press boxes. Of course, he dropped from sight. Set his future in the uncertain paths of show business. No place for a guy who could hit the curveball. In the snow, yet.

I caught up with him the other day. I like to track down these might-have-beens. See how they’re coping.

He’s handled it quite well. For a guy who might have made the cover of Sports Illustrated, he’s settling for the cover of People. He doesn’t make the sports pages but he makes do with headlining the drama pages. He never appeared in Yankee Stadium but he has emceed the Academy Awards four times, the Grammy Awards three times.

He’s the only guy in the world sorry he didn’t make it big in baseball. The rest of us are glad of it. Because Billy Crystal is one of the foremost makes-you-feel-good entertainers of our day. If you saw “City Slickers,” “When Harry Met Sally,” “Throw Momma From the Train” or any one of a dozen box office smashes, you know what I’m talking about. His name on a marquee insures a film’s success.

He’s being honored tonight at the Beverly Hills hotel at the dinner for the Tommy Lasorda Jr. Memorial Foundation, which funds the building and operation of an outreach recreational center to promote community involvement for all children.

Billy Crystal, of course, is one of the magnet entertainers of our time, taking over the mantle of the Jack Bennys, Jessels, the fabric of American comedy.

But he still has the glove he took infield with as a kid. He can probably recall every 3-and-2 count he ever stood in against. The Mantle home run that day when he was 8 years old and in Louis Armstrong’s box at Yankee Stadium still ricochets around the stadium overhang in his memory. He will tell you of trips he made with the Yankee great to Cooperstown and, finally, the last sad one to the Mick’s last at-bat last summer where Billy assisted Bob Costas in the eulogy, which may one day find its way also to Cooperstown.

Billy is an old friend of the Lasordas. Of course, Tommy Sr. was a pitcher, which clouds the relationship somewhat. To an old ballplayer, all pitchers are adversaries.

“I was at Dodger Stadium for the Hollywood stars’ game once and Tommy was pitching,” he was recalling. “I got two hits off him. And he knocked me down with the next pitch!”

And Billy Crystal beams happily at the recollection. I mean, they only throw at the great ones, don’t they? They don’t throw at .203 hitters.

Billy reflects, smiling at the compliment. That proves it. He could have been one of the greats. Made the world forget Nellie Fox. Hit the Mazeroski home run. We could have had handy headlines. “Red Sox ‘Crystal-ized’ by Billy Bat!”