Jimmy Piersall benefited from a particular moment in American cultural discourse that simply might not have come into play in our present-day world.
His volatile behavior as a young outfielder for the Boston Red Sox in the early 50s was a moment when the nation took a timely snapshot of changing perceptions about mental illness and personality issues in American society.
Our neo-postmodern world is less prone to overt displays of compassion when athletes or other celebrities "act out."
As a result, we have a more fractured, polarized, and individualistic view of human personality and how it interacts with the forces of social stimulus and constraint. We are quicker to diagnose, faster to judge, less willing to exhibit patience with behavior that exceeds or challenges prescribed boundaries.
Baseball became less tolerant of Piersall, of course, as his productivity declined. He became a serial publicity stunt in the 60s, shipped to the lowly Mets, where it was thought that he would be a colorful appendage of Casey Stengel.
Jimmy found a congenial landing place in southern California, where his type of local color fit in with the prevailing landscape, and he had a fatherly type in manager Bill Rigney, who knew how to spot Piersall.
|Aimee Semple MacPherson|
Today, however, such incidents would result in a swifter marginalizing--particularly given the vehemence with which Piersall would dispense criticism. While one could suggest that Jimmy was the forerunner of "snark radio," the fact is that much of that is simply scripted artifice. While much of the media would seem to subscribe to Jimmy's maxim that "the truth hurts," it's clear that they are mostly manufacturing "controversy."
Nearly twenty years later, it's possible to look at those sets and wonder if those terms connect, or whether they separate. It's a cultural question that is seemingly less and less open-ended, and one wonders if the sets were commissioned today, whether they would of necessity be labeled with more specificity (i.e. "crackpots" in one set, and "visionaries" in another).
Jimmy Piersall was the second card in the first set. These 72 cards were focused solely on the psycho-cultural force we've termed "extremity." (Manifestations of extremity in modernist culture were, as the examples above demonstrate, extremely wide-ranging.) The question we'll take up in our look at Piersall's "orange crate art" hommage by Ben Sakoguchi will concern whether there is something beyond that characterization to be found there.