Happy 70th birthday, Brooks

Longtime readers may know that I'm a lifelong Baltimore Orioles fan, having been born in Baltimore, where my dad was involved in much of the team's PR as an executive with WJZ-TV 13, the station that carried the O's games in the '60s. So we always had a lot of Orioles paraphernalia around the house, so much so that even after leaving Baltimore when I was still a baby, the orange-and-black love affair stuck.

Today, when baseball fans think of the Orioles (if they do at all, because they have been teh suck for a decade or more), they usually think of Cal Ripken or the team's beautiful ballpark, Camden Yards. But, being "of a certain age," the O's to me always meant my baseball "hero," Brooks Robinson.

So, you'll have to indulge me for a moment, because today is Brooks' 70th birthday. Born in Little Rock, Arkansas, on May 18, 1937, Brooks Robinson became arguably the greatest third baseman in baseball history. Nicknamed "The Human Vacuum Cleaner" for his preternatural fielding ability, Robinson cemented his reputation with play after unbelievable play in the 1970 World Series, which Baltimore won in five games over the Cincinnati Reds. Robinson was MVP of that World Series, one of four in which he played, and he was the American League's MVP in 1964.

He played for one team for 23 seasons (1955-77), an almost unheard-of feat in today's era of free agency. Brooks Robinson was elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1983 in his first year of eligibility, and his iconic number 5 has been retired by the Orioles. Today, he continues to serve the game he loves as president of the Major League Baseball Players Alumni Association.

As a kid, I absolutely idolized Brooks Robinson. I always tried to wear #5 on my sports teams, and I jumped at the chance to play third. But I could not get his baseball card, no matter how many packs I purchased. Finally, I got his card in 1976, and I sent it to him for an autograph. Not long after, I received the card back in the mail, signed, and accompanied by a signed picture made out to me personally. Even now, more than 30 years later, that memory stands out from my childhood, and I still have those autographs today.

I've always thought Brooks Robinson was not only a great player, but a class act as a man all the way. And although I've never met him, I still idolize him today: thanks to my now ex-wife's kind indulgence, we have a lasting tribute to Brooks. My daughter's middle name is "Brooke," which when spoken with our last name that starts with "S" sounds a lot like "Brooks." I'm sure a lot of kids have been named for Brooks Robinson, but I wonder how many of them have been girls. (For the record, I did find one, at least.)

So, happy 70th birthday to Brooks Robinson. As far as I'm concerned, you're still the greatest there ever was.