Musial celebrated with a Mass befitting an extraordinary man

ST. LOUIS • There was family, and lots of friends. There were white-haired old teammates in cardinal red blazers and regular fans in Cardinals jackets, some too young to have ever seen Stan Musial play but all knowing what he meant to their team and this city.

An estimated 1,300 people filled the pews at the St. Louis Cathedral Basilica in the Central West End Saturday morning for Musial’s funeral Mass.

Up front sat baseball greats such as Lou Brock, Tony La Russa and Joe Torre, and baseball commissioner Bud Selig. Former Cardinals superstar Albert Pujols was there, next to St. Louis Mayor Francis Slay. Behind them were row upon row of mourners, many wearing red ties or sweaters or scarves to accent their somber suits.

They all sat in silence as Musial’s hearse pulled up outside on Lindell Boulevard, the sound of bagpipes bleeding through the thick stone walls of the church. They stood and joined in a somber version of “Amazing Grace” while Musial’s casket was rolled down the aisle in a long procession of priests and family.

They celebrated an ordinary Catholic Mass, with its readings and its rhythms of prayer and Communion. But it was a Mass befitting an extraordinary man, complete with children’s choir and a row of bishops and monsignors in their white vestments on the vast altar, and a real cardinal — Timothy Dolan — in attendance.

Amid the pomp, it was mentioned more than once that Musial had been the favorite ballplayer of a fellow Pole, Pope John Paul II, and the two met several times. But the recurring talk throughout was of Musial’s decency and everyday faith.

The congregation heard from Bishop Richard Stika, who before he became Bishop of Knoxville, Tenn., was Musial’s parish priest at the Church of Annunziata in Ladue, where, Stika said, Musial and his wife, Lil, would be every Sunday in the front row at 11 a.m. Mass.

And in later years, as Lil needed a wheelchair to get in and out, parishioners would line up to help Musial put it in his car. They were glad to lend a hand, the priest said. “But also after that trunk was open, Stan would dish out souvenir after souvenir,” Stika said to chuckles. “I may have a couple of them myself.”

They heard, too, from Cardinals Chairman Bill DeWitt Jr., who remarked on how rare it was for a true great in any sport to not only spend his whole career with one team but then settle in that city for 50 years more, to become part of its fabric the way Musial did in St. Louis.

“We will never forget Stan the Man,” DeWitt said. “The greatest Cardinal. A St. Louis icon. And a true American hero.”

They heard from one of Musial’s grandsons — Andrew Edmonds — who recalled his famous “pop-o” not just as a baseball star but as the “same loving, smiling patriarch that many families have,” who went to swim meets and brought over McDonald’s for breakfast on Sundays.

And from a son-in-law, Martin Schwarze, who told of a 1986 family vacation to Australia that somehow culminated in Musial’s leading a standing-room-only dinner party in “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” on his harmonica, and being presented with the keys to the city of Melbourne.

And they heard from Bob Costas, the broadcaster and longtime Musial friend who choked up as he told of a time when Yankees great Mickey Mantle — then struggling with alcoholism — was staying at Costas’ house in St. Louis for a few days. Costas invited Musial over for dinner and the group had a nice evening. Late that night, Costas said, Mantle told him something.

“He said, ‘I had as much ability as Stan. Maybe more. But Stan was a better player than me,’ ” Costas recalled. “ ‘He got everything out of his life and his ability that he could, and he’ll never have to live with the regrets that I do.’ ”

A few years later, Mantle died. Costas gave a eulogy at his funeral. And partway through, Costas said Saturday, he looked up and saw Musial — who didn’t really know Mantle all that well — sitting quietly by himself in a side pew, away from the baseball luminaries and famous New Yorkers in attendance. Musial hadn’t told anyone he was coming. He just came.

“I was struck by the sheer decency of that act,” Costas said. “Nobody would have marked Musial absent that day. But he traveled all that way, a 75-year-old man, to pay his respects to a man who had respected him so much.”

And so on Saturday, all these people, from baseball Hall of Famers to everyday St. Louisans, came to pay the same kind of respect to Musial.

After two hours of Mass and remembrances, they gave their “Amen” to Archbishop Robert Carlson’s closing prayer, and as the casket rolled back out toward the hearse, they stood and sang the hymn “Sing With All the Saints to Glory” along with a triumphant organ, sending one of St. Louis’ greatest men off to his final rest.