- Marvin Miller
When I was an impressionable high school scholar, I don’t believe I fully appreciated the ideological implications of Marvin Miller’s crusade on behalf of professional baseball players.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t appreciate them at all.
It was more like Miller—who died a few days ago—was this cool-looking cat who looked a little Paul Newman and was sticking it to the robber baron owners of the baseball players I worshipped.
So I added him to my list of childhood heroes, an eclectic group consisting of Mike Royko, Norm Van Lier, Foxy Brown, and assorted other characters, real and fictional, who were sticking it to the Man. Even if in some cases—i.e., Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry—they were the Man.