Priorities, People. Priorities.
Citizens of the world, the time to heed our call is now. Scientists such as myself feel both fortunate that this global issue has finally captured the attention of world leaders and frustrated that despite the best available forecasts and statistics, not enough is being done to attack this problem at its core. For every alert and aware politician like Al Gore who has trumpeted the need for change, there are still five more who seem blissfully unaware that America’s future, as well as the planet’s, is in jeopardy unless we put aside partisan bickering and accept scientific fact for what it is---an inconvenient truth. As I write today, there are no less than forty accepted studies which prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that by the year 2030---perhaps even sooner---the Earth will have completely depleted its natural reserves of folksy, fond anecdotes of the New York Yankees of the nineteen forties and fifties. Our society is churning through golden memories of DiMaggio, Rizzuto, the Mick, Yogi Berra, and Casey Stengel at an alarming rate without any concern for the future---a horrible future where aging sportswriters simply won’t be able to reminisce with traditional dubious accuracy in print and in televised media about the mid-century Yankee legends which made their childhoods so cloyingly joyous. Because of a stunning profusion of documentaries, books, and articles about the golden age of baseball, original oral tales of the Clipper’s home plate heroics, Yogi’s timely quips, and Mickey’s good-natured carousing are disappearing left and right. How can we convey to our own children how freaking transcendent all these schmoes apparently were if we are unable someday to produce a single original story of Whitey Ford’s mound prowess or the way Yankee Stadium’s left field bleachers smelled on a summer afternoon? So I beg of you all, please do what you can to conserve every overly described moment of Don Larsen’s perfect game, every list of Bill Dickey and Red Ruffing’s favorite places to smoke cigars while in Pittsburgh, and every tale of a spoiled imp's sadness at seeing Brooklyn’s team move to L.A., no matter how implausible or discredited these stories might turn out to be. The world of tomorrow will thank you---and only you can make that world recognizable to us.