Something tells me Duey Fitzgerald would have enjoyed all the ink he’s been getting this week.
There’s been a lot of words thrown about to describe Duey, who passed away Wednesday at 84.
Icon. Legend. Unique. King of the one-liners. A west-end St. John’s sporting fixture.
To a lot of us, he was a friend.
It was just this week I was thinking of my old friend, Don Johnson, who passed away six years ago. His wife, Flo, died last weekend at 90.
Just a few days ago, a few old Higher Levels friends and I were reminiscing over a few beers about Freddie Jackson, who died seven years ago, on Aug. 11.
Now Duey.
I know it’s the way life takes its course, but I still find it a little strange that many today — especially the younger ones — don’t know Don Johnson, Freddie Jackson and probably Duey Fitzgerald from Adam, yet they were all sporting notables in their own right.
It’s a phrase used often, perhaps flippantly, but in this case it’s true: there’ll never be another Duey. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.
Few of us in sports will ever reach Hall of Fame status. Duey did it seven times. Baseball, softball, bowling, basketball, soccer and even a bit of hockey, Duey left a mark on his city and province.
Of course, for as much as he made an impact as an athlete, coach, official and administrator, he was perhaps best known for his exceptional wit.
And his frank opinions, which tended to ruffle a feather or two.
The man with the distinctive chin and original voice — “I’d be no good making a prank call,” he’d say — Duey’s humour was legendary (there’s that word again).
Like the time my father and Duey’s longtime friend and teammate, attended the wake for Barry Maunder, the former Holy Cross baseball great. There was Barry laid out in the casket when the old man remarked that it sure didn't look like him.
“Better be him,” said Duey, “I've been here an hour.”
Or the time he was umpiring a softball game when the catcher, probably feeling the after-effects of a grand time the night before, upchucked on the plate. “Geezes George, b’y,” Duey said, “I only got a brush, not a mop and pail.”
Then there’s my personal favourite, involving Danny Williams, his friend to the end.
It was a Remembrance Day celebration many years ago when Duey and his son took in the ceremonies at the War Memorial downtown. As the premier made his way through the thick crowd, he spotted Duey.
“Danny b’y,” Duey said, “you're doin' some job.”
I think it might have been the big public service strike at the time, and Williams was getting tons of heat.
Williams appreciated the compliment, adding not everyone felt the same way.
“Don't worry about that,” Duey assured the premier, loudly, in the middle of a crowd numbering hundreds, if not thousands. "They’re only a bunch of #$% baymen with nothin’ better to do than complain.”
Smiling sheepishly, Williams moved on, though I’m certain, privately, Danny appreciated Duey’s endorsement.
On the baseball airwaves, there was Mel Allen, Red Barber, Vin Scully … and Duey Fitzgerald.
His calls of the St. John’s Senior Men’s Softball League games on the old Cable Atlantic were legendary.
“It’s a high, high pop fly,” he’d tell the viewers. “Chop ’em up into singles, and he’d win the batting title.”
I was only a year old at the time, but one story that’s always been associated with Duey Fitzgerald was the 1966 Dominion Junior Baseball Championship at St. Pat’s Ball Park in St. John's.
The Caps beat Ontario 4-3 to win the championship — Newfoundland's first Canadian sports medal.
In the seventh inning, with St. John's trailing 3-2, the Caps rallied with two runs, the go-ahead score coming when Corner Brook's Jimmy Guy slid across home plate to beat the tag.
It was a very close play at the plate. Ontario thought they’d nailed Guy.
Duey was working home plate and ruled Guy safe.
The Ontario team went nuts.
He related the story to me years ago.
“All the Newfoundland crowd thought I was right, and all the Ontario crowd thought I was wrong,” he said.
“There were 3,000 at the game and the strange thing is, 10,000 afterwards said I was wrong.
“A fella on the mainland said to me one time that I threw the game. And I said to him, ‘How old are you?’ He said he was 36 or something. I said, ‘That means you were two at the time.’”
Comedian or tireless sports volunteer, Duey Fitzgerald was above all else, as Dee Murphy said the other night, a loyal friend.
He had that personality.
Years ago, Ted Williams visited St. John’s, brought to town to open the Billy Rahal ball field behind Elizabeth Towers.
I remember talking to Williams, and he was fine. And he got along good with the boys from the St. John’s oldtimers softball league who brought him.
But Williams, as everyone knows, could be crotchety. He and Duey hit it off famously, even though Duey loved the New York Yankees as much as the Holy Cross Crusaders.
“He called me Hughie the whole time,” Duey said with a big laugh.
He got a great kick out of that.
We got a great kick out of Duey, too.
Boy, I’ll sure miss him.
Robin Short is The Telegram’s Sports Editor. He can be reached at [email protected] Follow him on Twitter @TelyRobinShort
