Thanks, George

George Kell died today. He was 86 years old and had been out of the limelight for many years. The obits recalled how he won an AL batting title, nipping Ted Williams in 1949 by something like two thousands of a percentage point. It was the highlight of a long productive career that ultimately brought him to baseball's summit, the Hall of Fame.

When I was a kid, he was one of the voices of summer in Detroit, doing the TV broadcasts of the Tigers. In those days, most teams only showed about 40 games, most of those on the road. Kell's big southern drawl boomed loud and clear from wherever the team played. He was cheery without being a homer. He knew the game well because he had been a good player. He didn't try to be anything more than a guy who made baseball games fun for Tiger fans. In short, he made Tiger broadcast entertaining and informative. There were no lectures about lazy players. George didn't have to do that because he knew pictures didn't lie.

Basically, he did a toned down version of radio on TV, narrating the game without getting into a lot of useless detail. He didn't need to engage in a lot of useless banter about players' wives, etc. He simply wanted to tell us what was going on in the game he was doing and the other games around the league.

In short, he was a man who knew what he did best and didn't try to go past that. It takes a certain amount of discipline to do that. And when I listen and watch some of today's talkers, I find myself liking George's relaxed, southern drawl all the more. I never heard anybody say "The Cincinnatah Redlegs lead ..."

The more I think of it, his voice sounded like a cold glass of Vernors' Ginger Ale on a hot summer afternoon.

He once gave me an autograph in a hotel lobby in Boston, talking to me for 10 minutes about Joe Coleman, a pitcher the Tigers had acquired from Washington the year before. At one point he said,"When he learns to control that curveball, he's gonna be some kind of pitcher." That night, Coleman did just that, fanning 10 or 12 guys in a 2-0 win.

The old boy knew his baseball and told us just what we needed to know - nothing more. Silence is indeed sometimes golden.

George Kell understood that fact well. For that fact alone, we should all be grateful.

Is it really that hard to be nice?

A friend of ours is being inducted into her college's athletic Hall of Fame next week for her tennis achievements. My wife and I were invited to come to Florida to see her induction but, alas, can't make it.

So, we'll take her out to dinner here and celebrate her good fortune. We'll toast her success perhaps with a drink or two.

I bring this up because, as a country, we seem to resent it every time somebody other than ourselves does well. Every lottery winner is looked at suspiciously. A lot of people caught in the AIG crossfire -- lower level people who had little to do with the major fraud the company is accused of and who worked hard at their jobs to earn their bonuses -- are catching hell from everybody.

We have, by and large, become a mean-spirited country. It has always been that way for some politically minded-souls. But now this seems to be extending to more than those folks who live and die politically.

There are a lot of folks who are actually mad at President Obama because he actually had the audacity to spend the time to do something fun like fill out a NCAA bracket for ESPN. He went to California to give a couple of speeches and worked out some time to appear with Jay Leno. A lot of people got whacked out of shape over that one. How dare he enjoy himself even a little bit during these parlous times?

What the killjoys don't understand is that we all need breaks from our daily work routine. We also all need praise at times. And, while we may be modest about accepting congratulations for something well done, the fact is we need that input from someone, too. All work and no play (or, to put it another way, all work and no joy) does more than make somebody dull. It makes that person angry and unhappy.

Angry and unhappy people - the folks who are jealous of other people's success or good fortune -- often do irrational things.

It is easy to wish ill on someone else. It takes just a second to do so and, for some people, it seems to be cathartic. (A former colleague once called me up and gave me a profanity-filled tongue-lashing because he thought I had dissed his boss in public. The fact that he was wrong in his assertions is irrelevant in this case. The point was he then called up his old boss and told him he defended him and verbally slayed me. Maybe he felt better about himself for doing this. Maybe he earned a raise for doing so.)

Me? I'd rather be happy for a friend's success. It may not be as therapeutic as yelling at someone or holding a grudge. But I sleep a lot better at night.

Another encouraging sign!

As a country, we seem to be in need of serious encouragement these days. So, it is time for me to do my part.

It may be cloudy outside with snow still on the ground. Our 401Ks have been cut to 201Ks. Minnesota's Senate race still isn't decided ... four months after we voted.

But hope is on the horizon.

It's Opening Day at Connie's Creamy Cone - the local ice cream parlor.

Connie's is a delightful place. Connie lives in the neighborhood and uses a lot of high school kids who are polite and helpful.

They have even added doggie cups, the perfect size for the Happy Dog, Pete (who is a regular customer).

Life is about to get a lot better.