Joe DiMaggio, one of the best-loved players in the history of the national pastime, is dead. Tributes to the Yankee Clipper, who in his time won the hearts of a generation of Americans, have poured in from across the country. Baseball commissioner Bud Selig hailed DiMaggio as "the personification of grace, class and dignity on the baseball diamond." Professor of Geology Stephen Jay Gould, eulogizing DiMaggio, called him "the glory of a time that we will not see again." President Clinton, in a statement, said, "this son of Italian immigrants gave every American something to believe in."

For our generation, the significance of DiMaggio's death is hard to understand. None of us ever saw him play, and none of us have ever known an America where one man could give every American something to believe in. There is no one in public life today for whom anyone will ever sing, "a nation turns its lonely eyes to you," as Paul Simon sang in 1968 to DiMaggio.

And so it would be simple to attribute the national outpouring of grief at DiMaggio's death to mere nostalgia--for the player, for his age. Yet there is more to Joltin' Joe than that.

DiMaggio was a great man for any era; he was strong, quiet and dignified. His accomplishments--a .325 lifetime batting average, 361 home runs, a 56-game hitting streak in 1941--tell only part of the story. His poise on the field and quiet leadership of the great Yankees dynasty of the 1940's are legendary as well. And, unlike so many celebrities now and in DiMaggio's day alike, he dealt with the spotlight of fame as gracefully as he dealt with fly balls.

Although his cultural significance is tremendous, DiMaggio's greatness on and off the field transcends nostalgia. Though we never knew him, Joe DiMaggio continues to amaze us today, and we will miss him as one the game's greatest.