Skip to comments.Hall of Fame center fielder Duke Snider dies at 84
Posted on 02/27/2011 12:39:30 PM PST by Free ThinkerNY
Hall of Fame outfielder Duke Snider has died. He was 84.
The former Brooklyn Dodgers star died early Sunday of what the family called natural causes at the Valle Vista Convalescent Hospital in Escondido, Calif.
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Mickey..Willie, and the Duke....
Rest in peace.
Oh my gosh...my childhood hero...the Duke...my goal was to replace him in CF for Brooklyn (couldn’t hit the fastball)...love the ‘55 Dodgers...sad day for Brooklyn fans, of whom I’m the chairman of the board...RIP Duke, you brought yours truly many thrills as a kid...
When America was America!
Rest in Peace DUKE !
Say Hi to Mickey will ya?
Once upon a time in one city there were three centerfielders. Their names were Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays and Duke Snider.
Willie, Mickey and the Duke - three hall of fame centerfielders playing at the same time in the same city. Amazing.
Goodbye Duke. Now playing on the Field of Dreams.
Mr. Snider was slightly before my time, but I remember numerous stories about his ballplaying prowress, particularly from my father.
Rest in peace, Mr. Snider.
The most polarizing issue among kids growing up in New York in the 1950’s in New York City was who was the better center fielder, Duke Snider or Willie Mays. There was Mays’ catch or the drive by Vic Wertz in the 1954 World Series. Then there was Snider running up the center field wall the following year to save a game in Philadelphia.
Game Called. Across the field of play
the dusk has come, the hour is late.
The fight is done and lost or won,
the player files out through the gate.
The tumult dies, the cheer is hushed,
the stands are bare, the park is still.
But through the night there shines the light,
home beyond the silent hill.
Game Called. Where in the golden light
the bugle rolled the reveille.
The shadows creep where night falls deep,
and taps has called the end of play.
The game is done, the score is in,
the final cheer and jeer have passed.
But in the night, beyond the fight,
the player finds his rest at last.
Game Called. Upon the field of life
the darkness gathers far and wide,
the dream is done, the score is spun
that stands forever in the guide.
Nor victory, nor yet defeat
is chalked against the players name.
But down the roll, the final scroll,
shows only how he played the game.
The Duke of Flatbush, RIP