When the first sentence of your obituary is written
Scribbled Notes on a Cocktail Napkin: The end of the Olympics means thousands of athletes just accomplished something that will define the rest of their life
Scribbling from Albuquerque
The 2024 Paris Olympics conclude today, and for hundreds of athletes, the first sentence of their obituary is now written.
It’s the rarest of individuals who win a medal at an Olympics and that’s not included in the first sentence of their obituary.
I’m not betting against Simone Biles doing something else transformative with her life that does not involve gymnastics, but I’m confident her 11 Olympics medals will always be in the first sentence of her obituary.
I suppose it’s possible that an athlete just won a bronze medal over the last two weeks in a fringe sport and that athletic accomplishment will be overshadowed by them winning a Nobel Peace Prize a few decades ago from now. But if I’m writing their obituary, I’m still mentioning the medal in that first sentence.
That’s how much the Olympics matter.
Even with everything Steph Curry has accomplished in his career, if I’m writing his obituary, I’m putting his performance in the Gold Medal game yesterday in at least the second sentence of his obituary. But probably the first sentence.
I was thinking about Caitlyn Jenner’s obituary, and yes, I absolutely think winning the Gold Medal in the decathlon has to be included in the first sentence. I spent way too much working on the following:
Caitlyn Marie Jenner, who won the Gold Medal in the 1976 Olympics in the decathlon as a male named Bruce, reappeared in public decades later as the stepfather of the most popular reality TV show in history, then underwent a sex change and became a leading advocate for transgender people, died today due to _________. She was ___.
I’ve long been fascinated by the concept of the first sentence of people’s obituaries.
It started in 2001, when I was the San Francisco Giants beat reporter for The Oakland Tribune. Barry Bonds hit 73 home runs that season, setting a new single-season record, and everything about my life revolved around writing about Bonds.
I even wrote a book about the season. [I still have, uhhh, lots of copies remaining. If you want a book, let me know.]
One of the other Giants beat reporters — I can’t remember which one, but let’s say it was Dan Brown because he subscribes to this Newsletter — asked me one day, “do you think the first sentence of our obituaries will be that we covered Barry Bonds when he set the home run record?”
At the time, my answer was absolutely yes. That was 23 years ago. I’m not sure what the first sentence of my obituary would be right now. It’s no longer Bonds. I’m still hoping something else happens in my life that becomes the most interesting item of my life.
Vin Scully once said that he would go to church before the start of the World Series and pray that no player from either team would make a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life. I wish I’d asked Scully if he started doing this before, or after, Bill Buckner’s error in Game Six of the 1986 World Series.
It’s a fascinating concept.
For however many days you’re alive, you accomplish something one day, or something accidentally happens to you one day — whether it’s winning an Olympic medal, making a horrible mistake for your team, or something that has nothing to do with sports — and that’s what you’re most remembered for the rest of your life.
"Scribbled notes on a cocktail napkin" is my weekly Sunday feature that's a tribute to the sports columnists I grew up reading who penned Herb Caen-inspired three dot columns. It's an excuse to shamelessly plug my other side projects, post my favorite Immaculate Grid from the week with a story about one of the players, link to stories I found interesting, and string together loose topics on my mind.
Vinko Bogtaj: the skier who was the “agony of defeat” guy
If you ever watched ABC’s Wide World of Sports, you know exactly where I’m going with this next section.
It’s the opening billboard. Jim McKay narrates, “the thrill of victory … and the agony of defeat” as we see a ski jumper losing control, tumbling, and crashing as people scurry for cover. Here’s the classic introduction from 1974.
The skier’s name is Vinko Bogataj. He suffered a minor concussion and broken ankle during the mishap, which happened in 1970 in West Germany. It was not during the Olympics.
Vinko returned to ski jumping in 1971, never achieved the same success, and retired from regular competition. He became a ski jumping coach, painter, husband, and father of two daughters.
Living a quiet existence in Slovenia, Vinko did not realize that he was famous in the United States as the “agony of defeat” guy. That all changed when he was invited to the 20th anniversary of ABC’s Wide World of Sports.
Vinko was the biggest star in the room. Hundreds of athletes known for “the thrill of victory” gave him a standing ovation. He signed autographs all night, including for Muhammad Ali.
Over the years, ABC changed the footage used for the opening introduction of the show. But they never stopped showing Vinko’s disastrous fall. A producer once thought they were exploiting him and thought they should change a different visual for the “agony of defeat.” Nobody else agreed. They stuck with Vinko.
Maybe it’s because he lived in another country and didn’t speak much English, but Vinko didn’t seem to mind. He was a good sport about it. He even went back to the scene of the agony and posed for pictures.
One day, in the 1990s, Vinko agreed to an interview with ABC reporter Terry Gannon. On the drive over, Vinko got into a minor fender bender car accident.
“Every time I go on ABC,” Vinko told the reporter, “I crash.”
Rodney McCray: the man who ran through a wall
This week’s “Scribbled Notes” topic is on my mind because Grant McCray is an outfielder for the Sacramento River Cats and they are playing the Albuquerque Isotopes this week.
[For new readers who don’t me — hi, I’m Josh, thanks for subscribing — my primary job is play-by-play announcer for the Isotopes.]
Grant’s father, Rodney McCray, once ran through a wooden outfield fence trying to make a catch. I’ve debated whether it’s necessary to mention this during my broadcast. Or how many times I should mention it.
Here’s the play.
It happened on May 27, 1991 when McCray was playing for the Triple-A Vancouver Canadians in a game at Portland Civic Stadium. When McCray went face first into the wall, the ball was in his glove. Then it popped out. Miraculously, he was unharmed and remained in the game.
To this day, his nickname is Crash. The first line of his obituary is written.
Rodney has embraced that people will always want to talk about that play. He came through Albuquerque as a roving outfielder instructor in 2013 and I interviewed for my pregame show. Yes, the entire interview was about that crashing through the fence.
In 2006, McCray returned to Portland for a bobblehead — make that, bobblefence — promotion. McCray signed autographs, threw out the first pitch, and witnessed the dedication on “McCray Alley” in right-center field.
"I'm honored and tickled to death," McCray was quoted as saying on the Portland Beavers' Web site. "I never get tired of talking about [the crash]. It's kind of like the skier who epitomizes the 'agony of defeat' -- I'm the guy who crashed through the wall. Usually, it's the big-league superstars who get their own bobblehead, so I'm very excited."
Here’s a few other things to know about the guy who ran through a wall, plus his father and son.
Rodney’s father, James, was a theatrical actor who lost out on the role of George Jefferson to Sherman Hemsley. James once sponsored a Little League team in Los Angeles that featured future major leaguers Eric Davis, Darryl Strawberry, Chris Brown and his son.
Rodney McCray was drafted four times before he finally signed. He played in 67 games in the major leagues, mostly as a pinch runner and late-inning defensive replacement. In 1992, he batted 1.000 for the Mets! (He went 1-for-1.) The only hit, in his only at-bat, was a walkoff single to childhood friend Eric Davis playing left field for the Dodgers.
Rodney’s son, Grant, made a fabulous running catch in game one of the six-game series this week. Rodney did not crash through a wall. But it gave me an excuse to talk about the time his father did.
Gary Beck: the cameraman who captured the McCray crash
It’s a fluke that we even have footage of Rodney McCray crashing through the wall.
My friend Tim Hagerty wrote a story about the cameraman who captured the footage. His name is Gary Beck. He worked for KOIN 6 in Portland at the time.
Back in 1991, there was no internet to stream minor league baseball games. The only footage was if a cameraman from a local TV station came out to get a few highlights. Normally, they got a couple plays from early in the game, then went back to the studio to prepare for the late news.
That night was different.
“It was Memorial Day night and there was really nothing else going on,” Beck said of the slow news night. “It was such a non-highlight game, so I thought ‘well, I mind as well stick around.’ If it was a 7-2 game I’d have been out of there by the sixth inning.”
It was a serendipitous combination. A boring ballgame on a boring Monday kept Beck at the ballpark to document the most ubiquitous play in minor league history.
Beck’s 15 years of experience kept his hand steady despite the shock of what he saw through his lens. He accurately followed the ball in flight and framed McCray perfectly as the outfielder burst through Civic Stadium’s wooden fence.
“I’d shot that same play hundreds of times. A deep fly ball to right-center field. This one time, the unbelievable highlight happens where the guy crashes through the wall. It was one of those once in a lifetime shots.”
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“I got the footage back to the station and showed sports director Ed Whelan and he went nuts,” Beck remembered. Within 24 hours, McCray’s collision and Beck’s camerawork aired on CBS, CNN and ESPN. “The Baseball Hall of Fame called and wanted a copy of the tape, which is still the most cherished honor I have of that memory.”
This week’s not-so random Immaculate Grid story: Billy Ripken
Billy Ripken played 12 years in the Major Leagues. His older brother Cal, Jr. is a Hall of Famer who set the record for consecutive games played. His father Cal, Sr. was basically the inventor of “The Orioles Way” and once managed him and his brother in the majors. He’s now one of my favorite no-nonsense commentators on MLB Network.
None of that is what initially comes to our minds about Billy Ripken.
He’ll always be remembered for the most infamous baseball card in history.
Once Fleer realized the word “FUCK FACE” was written on the bottom of Ripken’s bat, the baseball card company and MLB went into crises mode. Fleer stopped production and air brushed the expletive off the card for future printings.
As a result, this card is not just an error card, it’s an extremely rare error card. Collectors love it. Even non-baseball fans love it. One of my friends in college, Will, didn’t like baseball. But he had the Ripken card. It’s the only baseball card he owned.
Depending on the condition of the card, it’s currently going for between $49-$150 on eBay.
It will depend on the obituary writer and the standards of the publication, but I know that if I’m writing Billy Ripken’s obituary, a reference to the baseball card is absolutely going in the first paragraph.
If you liked this Newsletter, you will probably these essays from my archives as well.
I should have commented here!?! Have a great week Josh!!