Loves the Mercury Cougar.
Alvin Dark was fired by owner Charles O. Finley in 1967 and here he was taking his grief, again, in 1974. The Oakland ball-club had just lost to the Sox, 3-2, and Charlie O. was throwing a tantrum of epic proportion in the manger’s office. Dark knew that the players had heard some of the one-sided conversation and hoped that his embarrassment would light a fire under their asses.
“I’m playing to win!” screamed Charlie, veins protruding from his neck and eyes popped out as if he was being squeezed by an anaconda. This was, after all, the jungle.
“If you don’t start playing aggressive baseball I’ll kick your fucking ass out of here!” “We won the World Series two years in a row without you and we can win again without you!”
Al understood what was going on– Charlie was from Chicago and hated losing to the Sox more than getting a root canal or a coat that wasn’t plaid. Dark was a Christian so he didn’t raise his voice or even curse. He just sat there, eyes staring directly ahead in an omnipresent out-of-body experience that lasted about 30 seconds until he snapped out of it.
“We’re not wrestling with the mysteries of the universe here, Charlie, it’s just a goddamn….”
Dark stopped himself in mid-sentence and privately scolded himself for the blaspheme.
Mr. Alvin Dark walked the parking lot of the Coliseum alone, the primordial universe spread before him. He slowly lowered himself into a green ’74 Mercury Cougar and started flipping through radio stations with impunity. Thoughts began to develop and unfold as he forgave Charlie for his paradigm of curmudgeon behavior. The song “Thankful for what you’ve got” poured out of the speakers as Dark thought, ” It’s not that the celebration becomes less fun as we get older, it’s more purposeful. Our intentions adjust with the weight of responsibilities and existential dread….and the slow erosion of joint cartilage.”
Dark put key to ignition and foot to pedal as he drove away, leaving an empty parking lot…and the primordial stars to themselves.
Coco Crisp's Afro 
Alvin Dark! My mother taught me to love that guy when he played for the Giants.
I met Alvin Dark at a baseball card show in Secaucus, New Jersey in late 2006 or early ’07; my father-in-law dragged me to the show and I in turn dragged my wife with me. I brought the 1955 Bowman TV-set-image baseball card for Mr. Dark to sign, but Mr. Dark completely ignored me and only had time for my wife and her flaming red hair. “Very nice of you to come see me, Missy. You come by again and see me anytime.” So, yeah, Alvin Dark flirting with my wife at a baseball card show. Not the worst thing to happen in my marriage. She had no idea who he was and completely forgot about the incident by the time he died last year. I read somewhere else that he actually had a mistress all those years that he was claiming to be a devout man of religion.