Tony Conigliaro "flew too close to the sun"

We might invoke Icarus from mythology in reflecting on the life and career of Tony Conigliaro. Baseball of the 1960s had Conigliaro in high profile. He stands as an icon in Boston Red Sox history. His story is profoundly sad, as injury robbed him of what was destined to be a Hall of Fame career.
The older I get, the more sensitive and aware I become of the risks taken by pro athletes. When young we are much too indifferent or shallow in our thinking when we hear news reports about athletes getting injured. This is probably connected to the whole "invulnerability of youth" syndrome. We lack proper appreciation of the risks we take. In other words, we feel so resilient.
I am now 64 years old. I feel much greater sensitivity on these matters. I appreciate my life and relatively sound health in a way that I lacked when young. Or let's put it this way: God created us to under-appreciate life's vicissitudes when young. Little did I realize as a boy that I was the lucky one, sitting at home on a couch watching the Minnesota Vikings on TV, as opposed to being one of the players. Oh, to be a Minnesota Viking, eh? But no, it could be a curse as with Fred McNeill and Wally Hilgenberg, to name two star-crossed players. Others have had post-career issues like Brent Boyd. Many no doubt choose to stay in the closet with these issues. And me? As I write this I believe I show no evidence of cognitive decline related to age. I never played high school football! I think it's sad that life's vicissitudes are such, a guy like me can feel grateful just because I lacked the talent and interest for playing a dangerous, Neanderthal game, a game for which society gives its imprimatur because high schools offer it. An abomination.
 
Young man with a homer bat
And now let's consider Mr. Tony Conigliaro, who may have felt some of that invulnerability of youth. What a lure it can be, when one considers the cheers, the glory and even the money that comes with sports success. The adulation showers down on you, from people who are oblivious to the risks you're taking. It really is a moral conundrum for us all. We are belatedly waking up to it.
Football may be under siege before too much longer, if the nation's mothers take the bull by the horns. Mothers and women in general are nurturers. They took the lead in attacking drunk driving.
So, Tony Conigliaro found glory as a very young man playing baseball with the Boston Red Sox. He hit homers at a pace uncommon for someone of his tender age. An American success story? Only superficially.
Conigliaro found that he could hammer the ball by assuming a type of stance in the batter's box. It's called "crowding the plate." He was warned about this. He blazed ahead while courting the risks. In this sense we might think of Icarus, in mythology the son of the master craftsman Daedalus, the creator of the Labyrinth. Icarus's father warns him of complacency and then of hubris. Icarus ignored instructions not to fly too close to the sun. When the wax in his wings melted, he tumbled out of the sky and fell into the sea where he drowned. Hence we got the tragic theme of failure at the hands of hubris.
Not to suggest that Conigliaro was vain, just that he succumbed to the temptation to maximize his success by taking an intemperate approach.
Football gets attention as the real hazardous sport these days obviously. But we are also made aware of baseball's very real dangers, the chief one getting struck in the head by a pitched ball. Or, even a catcher taking a foul tip to the mask. Danger, danger, danger. Yes it's there as in the tragic case of Kirby Puckett whose incident may well have led to his very death.
As a young Twins fan I was aware of Jimmie Hall getting "beaned" by Bo Belinsky of the Angels. Speculation had it that after that, Hall wasn't quite the same hitter. Hall made the 1965 All Star team but then ironically, ended up getting platooned for the '65 World Series. I wish manager Sam Mele had just rolled the dice and kept Jimmie in there full-time. That's easy to say now with the knowledge that we lost the '65 Series.
A player inclined to crowd home plate was bound to cause opposing pitchers to try to back him off. Part of this is sheer intimidation, the psychological element of the game. Conigliaro started getting hit by pitched balls: a harbinger. But in 1966 he was in full stride, progressing and looking quite good. He stayed free of the injury hazard. He banged out 28 home runs and drove in 93 runs. As a team the Red Sox were struggling though.
That changed in 1967. It was a charmed year for the Red Sox but not for Tony Conigliaro. Let's first note that on August 17, a partner of Tony's in his music sideline, Ed Penney, received a warning re. Tony from none other than Ted Williams: "Tell Tony that he's crowding the plate. Tell him to back off. It's getting too serious now with the Red Sox."
In other words, with the Red Sox now strongly contending, opponents were likely to seek any edge and not cut any slack. My Minnesota Twins were also strongly contending in 1967. We were edged out by Boston in a three-game series at the very end - heartbreaking for yours truly - but that Boston team did not include Tony Conigliaro. By then he had been felled by a life-changing injury. Us kids lacked understanding of just how serious it was at the time. We felt injuries could just be fixed.
 
Truly fateful August night
On August 18 of 1967, Jack Hamilton was the opposing pitcher and he struck Tony in the face with a fastball. The ball just missed the temple but hit him in the left eye and cheekbone. Tony was carried off the field on a stretcher. He sustained a linear fracture of the left cheekbone and a dislocated jaw with severe damage to his left retina. He was out of action for an extended time but not permanently. Nevertheless the injury became like a ticking time bomb. Flashes of his old self returned. Alas the young man had flown too close to the sun. He had to put his bat aside.
Tony fell into a vegetative state over the last few years of his life and passed away at the age of just 45. The Red Sox wore black armbands in remembrance.
I don't remember if I personally saw Tony Conigliaro play with the Red Sox at our Metropolitan Stadium (Bloomington MN). But I do remember seeing him in an early-season game when he was with the California Angels in 1971. I was excited by that Angels team because they had also acquired Alex Johnson, a talented but troubled player from the Cincinnati Reds. I remember Johnson hitting a home run in the game I watched at the Met. I can't remember if Conigliaro hit safely.
What may have been envisioned as a 1-2 punch did not turn out that way. Conigliaro had only 266 at-bats, Johnson 247. I notice that Johnson had only two home runs in 1971. Well, I saw one of the two.
Johnson ended up a tragic baseball story like Conigliaro, and in Johnson's case the young man had emotional instability. Such is life "in the arena," I guess. We are fascinated by the athletes who can be much like gladiators, risking so much. But I'm glad I never had the opportunity to trade places with them. God bless the memory of Tony Conigliaro, who by the way could sing quite well!
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com