700 Sundays by Billy Crystal
Dr. Irving Kolin, a brilliant psychiatrist/friend who was so helpful in explaining George Steinbrenner’s behaviors for my upcoming biography, and I went to see the Orlando Magic basketball team on January 9. The Magic, led by Dwight Howard, JJ Ridick, and a fabulous kid I had never heard of by the name of Courtney Lee, scored 71 points in the first half in what appeared to be a near-perfect performance. At halftime I chatted with Pat Williams, founder and PR jockey extraordinaire for the Magic, who confirmed this is one of Orlando’s best teams since Shaq played for them a while back.
After the game Irving handed me Billy Crystal’s book, 700 Sundays, to read. The next morning I woke up around 6 and started. The book is a memoir that details his childhood. There was no more loving son. His descriptions of his cast of relatives is memorable, but most touching were his memories of mom and his dad who died suddenly at age 50 when he was fifteen years old, leaving a hole in his heart and a boulder to carry on his shoulders.
My dad passed away in November, and so I could feel his sadness. My dad lived to be 93, so the shock wasn’t nearly as great but final is final. Billy is extraordinary because he is so in touch with his feelings. I can’t even begin to access mine.
Billy has always played warm characters in such movies as When Harry Met Sally and City Slickers, and his movie 61, about Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris, was hailed for its tribute to The M&M boys. 700 Sundays was not only moving, but it was a chuckle a page as well. Pick it up and read it. You’ll be glad you did.