Passing It On

Wacky sports economics affect personal histories

The economy of sports, especially professional sports, has always befuddled me. The confluence of several recent events shows a quirky relationship between those wacky sports economics and their effect on personal history.

Consider, for example, the New York Yankees. Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez is being paid about $28 million this season, or roughly $173,000 for each of the Yankees’ 162 games. Every time the Yankees draw (for them) an average 53,000 fans to the park, it would take more than $3 of every ticket just to pay Rodriguez for that game. He will make more this season than the entire U.S. Senate or 100 surgeons.

Until Sunday, Rodriguez played in Yankee Stadium, which opened in 1923 during the heyday of Babe Ruth. The venerable baseball shrine will be replaced by a new $1.3 billion Yankee Stadium next season. The new park will have 6,000 fewer seats and half as many bleacher seats as the old park. Many seats will be further from the action than “The House That Ruth Built.”

Higher salaries and new ballparks with higher ticket and concessions costs have transformed the game dramatically from the days a generation or so ago when a family could afford a trip to the ballpark and when players took off-season work to feed their own families.

That the old Yankee Stadium lasted so long is a rarity these days. Perhaps nowhere has the rate of history change been as rapid as in that of sports facilities, which are also largely underwritten by taxpayers. In 1988, a shining Miami Arena was unveiled, the home of professional hockey and basketball. On Sunday, they blew it up. In 1984, Indianapolis joined the big leagues of sports buildings when it opened the RCA Dome. Demolition on it begins this week.

With sports history turning over so fast, it may soon be impossible for a parent to take a child to see a major league sporting event in the same venue as mom or dad did. That is, even if they can afford to.

Larry Lehmer is a personal historian who helps people preserve their family histories. To learn more, visit his web site or send him an e-mail.

Photo: Yankee Stadium: 1923-2008 courtesy of chris tuite.

Don't let a little white lie tarnish your legacy

You’re probably familiar with the term “little white lie.” It’s possible that you’ve even told one or two in your lifetime. At their simplest, these little misstatements of fact are harmless and could even be considered helpful if they spare someone a dose of undue pain or suffering.

But what about those little white lies gone bad, when they lead to lie heaped upon lie to the point where you’re boxed in with no escape? Many television shows and movies have been built on this premise, usually with comical results. In real life, though, these situations are not always so funny.

Consider the case of Bill Henry, an 83-year-old Floridian whose obituary last fall told of his exploits as a major league pitcher. It outlined his 16 years in the bigs, including a couple of games in the 1961 World Series. He would drag out an album of baseball cards to show friends, a cardboard shrine to his colorful past.

But none of it was true. The real baseball playing Bill Henry is still kicking around his native Texas at age 80.

How and why the Florida Bill Henry assumed his false baseball playing identity is still a mystery, even to his wife, who met him after the deaths of his first two wives and his children.

"I just took his word that that's who he was," she told the Lakeland Ledger. "I was married to somebody that maybe I didn't know."

Keep that in mind if there are little white lies lurking in your family history. It’s better to come clean now before some snoopy reporter uncovers them or your heirs are embarrassed by an erroneous obituary.

Larry Lehmer of When Words Matter is a personal historian who helps people preserve their family histories. To learn more, check out his web site, or send him an e-mail.

Flickr photo courtesy of Bright Tal.