chefcraig
07-06-2010, 08:30 AM
(My sincere apologies for not having the time to get to this story over the weekend...)
Star Spangled Hero: Rick Monday and the U.S. flag
San Jose, California - While serving as the grand marshal of a parade in North Carolina a few years ago, Rick Monday spotted a woman in the crowd holding an American flag in a glass box. She held the case up for Monday to see.
"This is my father," the woman said. The flag had draped the coffin of her dad, a U.S. soldier.
As the parade went on, it happened again. And again.
"Four or five times along the route, someone would hold up a flag. This was my father. This was my brother," Monday recalled. "Those are moments that stop time."
Those moments — and that American flag — happen to be a Rick Monday specialty. His own time-stopping moment is the reason he is still the grand marshal for parades in, say, North Carolina, or the guest of honor in, say, Laughlin, Nev.
For Monday, time stopped on April 25, 1976, the day he raced across the outfield at Dodger Stadium to snatch the American flag from the clutches of protesters who were about to set it aflame.
http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/4286/amonday.jpg (http://img3.imageshack.us/i/amonday.jpg/)
Monday, 64, is now a Dodgers broadcaster. In honor of the Fourth of July, the Mercury News asked him to look back on the 34 years since his famous act of patriotism. The two-time All-Star sat in the dugout before a Giants-Dodgers game last week; in a fitting coincidence, most of the interview took place as that night's anthem singer practiced "The Star-Spangled Banner."
First, the back story: Monday was playing center field when he noticed two men kneeling on the grass in left-center field. Monday was with the Chicago Cubs at the time, but one of his previous uniforms was that of United States Marine Corps, where he spent six years with the reserves. When Monday saw the flag in trouble, he accelerated without thinking.
Monday ran at full speed and, along the way, caught a break. The wind blew out the protesters' first match. They struck a second one and set the match to the material just as Monday swooped in and ripped it out of their hands. One of Monday's most vivid memories is the smell of lighter fluid.
Another memory: Tommy Lasorda, then the Dodgers' third-base coach, running into the outfield and berating the protesters with a torrent of profanity that would make a longshoreman blush. Another: The way the crowd broke into impromptu versions of "God Bless America."
Monday said he never found out what the guys were protesting and, frankly, he doesn't care.
"All I know is that their message was burning a symbol of something a lot of people have died for, people whose families are still dealing with them not being there," he once said.
Yes, Monday still has his flag. Only he doesn't call it his flag. In conversation, it's "the flag" or "our flag" or "the flag from '76."
It's the people's flag, which is why he has refused offers to sell it. He also has rebuffed overtures from the Baseball Hall of Fame to display the flag permanently in Cooperstown. Apparently, the flag from '76 isn't retired yet. In fact, the flag is in its prime.
Monday said the unique baseball memento has proved to be instrumental in raising funds for the Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. (where Monday has made several visits), for the Fisher House (which provides help for military families) and other charities.
"If it's sitting in a case in the Hall of Fame, it cannot help those people who need help and who should never be forgotten — and that's our servicemen and women and their families," Monday said. "We can be active with the flag. If we have it and we use it the right way, in the right venues, we can help a great number of people."
In 2006, for example, the flag took a road trip. In advance of a ceremony at Dodger Stadium, Monday and his wife arranged for the flag to travel from their home in Vero Beach, Fla., to Los Angeles. Instead of shipping it via UPS, they sent it via USA — 14 states in 17 days.
Monday's wife, Barbaralee, had never ridden a motorcycle, but, with help from a group called the Patriot Guard Riders, she and her brother escorted the flag on a coast-to-coast ride. They built in time to show it off along the way, displaying it for soldiers who often had tears in their eyes.
"They stopped at every military installation along the journey," Monday said. "They stopped in little towns that were so small they had 'Welcome to' and 'Thanks for coming' on the same post. But they made it through."
The '76 flag had company on its trek. Staff Sgt. Francisco Vasquez, a soldier from Los Angeles, had sent Monday a flag that had flown over the headquarters of the 101st Airborne medevac unit in Baghdad.
Vasquez asked Monday to deliver the flag to his family. Monday said he was happy to oblige. Both flags were part of the ceremony at Dodger Stadium for the 30-year-anniversary of Monday's famous save.
These days, the '76 flag is back under lock and key. Monday says he keeps it in a safe-deposit box, heeding the advice of his insurance company and local law-enforcement officials, who fear that someone will want to harm it. Monday said threats have been made over the years, pointing to the type of people who "protest the funerals of our fallen soldiers, which is disgusting. It's disgusting some of the things that they yell at some of the families who are grieving."
Monday played 19 years in the majors. He was the first player taken in baseball's first draft, selected by the Kansas City Athletics in 1965, and signed for an unprecedented $100,000 bonus. He played for the A's (1966-71), Cubs (1972-76) and the Dodgers (1977-84). But when people stop him in hotel elevators, it's not to talk about his 241 lifetime home runs or '81 World Series ring. They want to talk about his one career save.
He still gets letters from grateful military veterans. He got three more thank-you notes from soldiers last week. Monday saves these letters, which number in the thousands. His wife hopes to turn the best of them into a book someday.
Until then, Monday wishes everyone a happy holiday.
"July 4, I would hope, is a great day for all of us. This is the day of our independence," he said. "And I hope it's also a day we understand the dependence we have on one another."
http://www.mercurynews.com/news/ci_15437306?source=rss&nclick_check=1
Star Spangled Hero: Rick Monday and the U.S. flag
San Jose, California - While serving as the grand marshal of a parade in North Carolina a few years ago, Rick Monday spotted a woman in the crowd holding an American flag in a glass box. She held the case up for Monday to see.
"This is my father," the woman said. The flag had draped the coffin of her dad, a U.S. soldier.
As the parade went on, it happened again. And again.
"Four or five times along the route, someone would hold up a flag. This was my father. This was my brother," Monday recalled. "Those are moments that stop time."
Those moments — and that American flag — happen to be a Rick Monday specialty. His own time-stopping moment is the reason he is still the grand marshal for parades in, say, North Carolina, or the guest of honor in, say, Laughlin, Nev.
For Monday, time stopped on April 25, 1976, the day he raced across the outfield at Dodger Stadium to snatch the American flag from the clutches of protesters who were about to set it aflame.
http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/4286/amonday.jpg (http://img3.imageshack.us/i/amonday.jpg/)
Monday, 64, is now a Dodgers broadcaster. In honor of the Fourth of July, the Mercury News asked him to look back on the 34 years since his famous act of patriotism. The two-time All-Star sat in the dugout before a Giants-Dodgers game last week; in a fitting coincidence, most of the interview took place as that night's anthem singer practiced "The Star-Spangled Banner."
First, the back story: Monday was playing center field when he noticed two men kneeling on the grass in left-center field. Monday was with the Chicago Cubs at the time, but one of his previous uniforms was that of United States Marine Corps, where he spent six years with the reserves. When Monday saw the flag in trouble, he accelerated without thinking.
Monday ran at full speed and, along the way, caught a break. The wind blew out the protesters' first match. They struck a second one and set the match to the material just as Monday swooped in and ripped it out of their hands. One of Monday's most vivid memories is the smell of lighter fluid.
Another memory: Tommy Lasorda, then the Dodgers' third-base coach, running into the outfield and berating the protesters with a torrent of profanity that would make a longshoreman blush. Another: The way the crowd broke into impromptu versions of "God Bless America."
Monday said he never found out what the guys were protesting and, frankly, he doesn't care.
"All I know is that their message was burning a symbol of something a lot of people have died for, people whose families are still dealing with them not being there," he once said.
Yes, Monday still has his flag. Only he doesn't call it his flag. In conversation, it's "the flag" or "our flag" or "the flag from '76."
It's the people's flag, which is why he has refused offers to sell it. He also has rebuffed overtures from the Baseball Hall of Fame to display the flag permanently in Cooperstown. Apparently, the flag from '76 isn't retired yet. In fact, the flag is in its prime.
Monday said the unique baseball memento has proved to be instrumental in raising funds for the Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. (where Monday has made several visits), for the Fisher House (which provides help for military families) and other charities.
"If it's sitting in a case in the Hall of Fame, it cannot help those people who need help and who should never be forgotten — and that's our servicemen and women and their families," Monday said. "We can be active with the flag. If we have it and we use it the right way, in the right venues, we can help a great number of people."
In 2006, for example, the flag took a road trip. In advance of a ceremony at Dodger Stadium, Monday and his wife arranged for the flag to travel from their home in Vero Beach, Fla., to Los Angeles. Instead of shipping it via UPS, they sent it via USA — 14 states in 17 days.
Monday's wife, Barbaralee, had never ridden a motorcycle, but, with help from a group called the Patriot Guard Riders, she and her brother escorted the flag on a coast-to-coast ride. They built in time to show it off along the way, displaying it for soldiers who often had tears in their eyes.
"They stopped at every military installation along the journey," Monday said. "They stopped in little towns that were so small they had 'Welcome to' and 'Thanks for coming' on the same post. But they made it through."
The '76 flag had company on its trek. Staff Sgt. Francisco Vasquez, a soldier from Los Angeles, had sent Monday a flag that had flown over the headquarters of the 101st Airborne medevac unit in Baghdad.
Vasquez asked Monday to deliver the flag to his family. Monday said he was happy to oblige. Both flags were part of the ceremony at Dodger Stadium for the 30-year-anniversary of Monday's famous save.
These days, the '76 flag is back under lock and key. Monday says he keeps it in a safe-deposit box, heeding the advice of his insurance company and local law-enforcement officials, who fear that someone will want to harm it. Monday said threats have been made over the years, pointing to the type of people who "protest the funerals of our fallen soldiers, which is disgusting. It's disgusting some of the things that they yell at some of the families who are grieving."
Monday played 19 years in the majors. He was the first player taken in baseball's first draft, selected by the Kansas City Athletics in 1965, and signed for an unprecedented $100,000 bonus. He played for the A's (1966-71), Cubs (1972-76) and the Dodgers (1977-84). But when people stop him in hotel elevators, it's not to talk about his 241 lifetime home runs or '81 World Series ring. They want to talk about his one career save.
He still gets letters from grateful military veterans. He got three more thank-you notes from soldiers last week. Monday saves these letters, which number in the thousands. His wife hopes to turn the best of them into a book someday.
Until then, Monday wishes everyone a happy holiday.
"July 4, I would hope, is a great day for all of us. This is the day of our independence," he said. "And I hope it's also a day we understand the dependence we have on one another."
http://www.mercurynews.com/news/ci_15437306?source=rss&nclick_check=1