AN ARTICLE FROM THE BASEBALL
MAGAZINE:APRIL
ONEMOREINNING
IT WAS A GREY MORNING. RAIN WAS COMING DOWN MUFFLING THE SOUND OF
CARS OUTSIDE & EVERYTHNG IN THE DELI
HAD BECOME MUTED AND
SOFTENED DOWN. I WAS SITTING
BEHIND THE COUNTER READING THE NY TIMES. IT WAS SEVEN OCLOCK AND JUST ABOUT
TIME FOR NORMAN BLOOM TO COME IN & ORDER
BREAKFAST:
THE MESSIAH
A LIFE
FILLED
WITH
PASSION
The door opened & there he was.
At one time Norman Bloom had owned a carpeting store, was
an accomplished
pianist, had a wife and child and lived a suburban
life. That all was gone
now. He stood before me, heavy
set, flush faced, matted hair tucked around his forehead, and asked me for
the usual. The usual consisted
of a six egg omelet
with tomato and cheese, rye toast and a cup of very strong coffee.
He took off his thick woolen hat, stuffed it into his peacoat and leaned
against my table. Norman was
a welcome relief from the pressures of running a Jewish Deli in a
neighborhood that was
changing. He was brilliant,
knew about everything, and
was generally considered wacky by everyone he encountered, including me (and
I was his friend!)
“Well, did you see the paper today?” He sat down and opened
up the sports section of the Daily News. “Reggie got
two hits off
Blyleven today and that
gives him
12
for the
last two
weeks and 7
of those were on
weekends.” He
rubbed his hands
together. “The lord, my
father, knows what 7 and 12 means just before the joyous days of Purim. In
the 15th book of
kaballah, the mystics
talked about
a
strong, dark
figure, (Reggie
Jackson) who
defeated the 7 plagues of
inertia and
then went on to invoke the name
of “Adonai” (he put his hands over his head) and asked for a
Messiah to
come.”
The eggs were
finished. I
put the plate down before
him and
he continued. “I keep telling
them….I tell them all…..I have come…..I have been sent by
the father and I am here to lead. It’s all in the scores…in the
box scores. You can’t refute
that.”
For years now I had tried to do just
that. Now I no
longer tried. Norman looked
out the window and then moved
closer to me
pointing
to
baseball scores that he
had underlined in yellow magic markers.
“Just look here, Kenny
Singleton hit his 6th
single in 6 days. Ron Guidry
s truck out 6 men in his last
2 games and on the same day
Frank White got his 6th single in 6
days. It’s ordained, it’s
my number, the 6 adding up to the 5 torments
I had last month in
Patterson. Everything is here
in black and
white. You
can’t argue with the
newspapers. My
father who lives in heaven gives
you proof of my existence
everyday and those smug,
pompous, scientists, and the
politicians, all turn their back on the evidence. They laughed
at Christ, Spinoza, and Gallileo,
and the holy prophets and they
laugh at me. I’m constantly beaten up and ridiculed but all you have
to do is to look at the newspapers.
The ball scores, the magic words
and numbers of Kaballah, all point up to the truth of my being the new Messiah.
Jewish culture, Israel, demanded that I come forth and so I have.”
He stopped for a moment while I took care of a customer. He thern
went on after I had finished. ‘If you look at last week’s papers
you see how Rick Reuschel, John Candeleria, and Mike Marshall fit into the
pattern. They all have 4 letters
in their first name and all
of them have
pitched three
two hitters in their
career. Three is a sacred number
denoting rebirth. Couple that
with patterns ending with 4 letters and
in the Chumash,
(our sacred prayer book)
it talks about
the one Messiah coming in moments
of four. My coming was in fours.
My first life,
my awakening, my reincarnation
right here on Earth, and the
non-acceptance of my
earthly
appearance.
If you want further proof of
my arrival, look at Al
Gionfrido’s catch off Joe
Dimaggio in the 1947 World Series.
The Cumash talks about
that date and tells of an event
that will happen to open
men’s minds to the miraculous, the holy. On that same day my
father revealed himself and
told me a miracle would proclaim my life on Earth. Mr. Dimaggio and Mr.
Gionfriddo played their parts in that miracle.”
And so it
went. Occasionally we talked
about world matters, music,
t he arts,
politics. He knew everything
but his mission in life was
to be mankind’s
savior. Every
once
in awhile
customers would tell
me about Norman having been dragged
out of the warehouse
he slept in to be
beaten up by young toughs
or his
getting locked up in jail for
vagrancy or he would come into
the store in dire distress and
I would
feed him and he
would
stumble out again, papers
falling out of his pants pockets and jacket.
Time
went by.
I left the store
and Norman
was
forgotten. Carl
Sagan, the scientist, had just
written a book called, “Mona Lisa’s Mustache” and there in
the middle of the book he talks about Norman. I was astonished. His reaction
to Norman was the same as everybody else’s, only in his case it took
him 12 pages to come to that conclusion.
Once
again the years went by.
Then one day at my nephew Jared’s Bar Mitzvah
the Messiah reappeared. Outside in the parking lot I saw
this bulky
figure putting flyers on the
windshields of parked cars. It
was Norman and it was a joyous reunion.
We talked for
awhile, I shot some
videotape of
him and
suddenly a
lot of young boys from the party
gathered around him and listened
to us. When Norman left, all
the kids generally agreed that
Norman was a “madman, a cuckoo, a nut
job.” I tried to explain
to them
that in his own way
he was a special person but
I don’t think it worked.
That was quite awhile ago. No One seems to know if Norman is still
alive.
In the back of my mind……I keep thinking….and I know
it can’t possibly be true….but just suppose….that
maybe………but no it can’t be
true.
