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Michael Weiner may or may not have known his life would never be the same after experiencing an odd tingling on his right side in July 2012, but clearly something was wrong. Every day, Weiner would make the walk from the Port Authority Bus Terminal to his office at the players association on East 49th Street in Manhattan and, like any 50-something, was ready to write off the bizarre sensation in his foot as another surcharge of middle age.
But a month later, when the numbness lingered, doctors delivered a devastating diagnosis: Weiner was suffering from an inoperable brain tumor. The clock was ticking for the union chief, but instead of counting down his remaining days, Weiner chose to mark time with acts of courage and kindness, a currency all too rare in baseball lately.
Weiner finally succumbed to his illness on Thursday and will be buried at Cedar Park/Beth El Cemetery in Paramus on Sunday. He was a Jersey guy to the core, born in Paterson and went to high school in Pompton Lakes, where he played baseball. Weiner was blessed with an extraordinary intelligence, which landed him at Harvard Law School in the 80s, but his genius could be found in his spirit and not just the textbooks.
Weiner was one of the most decent men the sport has ever known, as much of a visionary as Donald Fehr, his predecessor at the players association, was an ideologue. Weiner was the perfect counterweight to Bud Selig’s bullying – able to change the steroid-culture in a way the commissioner never could, by convincing rank and file players that PEDs would ultimately ruin baseball, if not the lives of the cheaters who were addicted to them.
Weiner suffered greatly over the last 15 months; pictures showed how radiation and chemotherapy robbed him of his weight and strength, not to mention his hair. But Weiner never gave up, he kept working to the end. He never shied away from public appearances, either, even if it meant allowing the world to see just how devastating his form of cancer was. Weiner showed up at the All-Star Game at Citi Field in a wheelchair, unable to use his right arm and losing his ability to speak in long sentences. But there was still work to be done, even if time was running out.
Weiner had the guts to tell Alex Rodriguez to give up his absurd fight in the Biogenesis scandal, having seen MLB’s evidence against the Yankees’ slugger. It was the same evidence that compelled the 12 other players Selig suspended to take their punishment without a peep.
A-Rod, however, broke with his union when he chose to appeal and is now caught in an endless loop of lies.
Someday Rodriguez will regret not listening to Weiner, who was only looking out for one of his flock. That’s the legacy he bestowed upon the clubhouses, where he was always the smartest but most humble guy in the room.
Not long after Weiner became sick, as word spread around the industry that his tumor was too deeply imbedded for surgeons to reach, all 30 teams sent Weiner a jersey autographed by their players. Every single one.
He’d been the union’s leader only since 2009, but it didn’t take long for Weiner to win over the troops. They were all in, even if the end was visible from the very first day.
- See more at: http://www.northjersey.com/columnists/Klapisch_Pompton_Lakes_Michael_Weiner_was_a_baseball_visionary__.html#sthash.eBeK3FBZ.dpuf

Doctor Who played an important part of my youth. Hearing that unmistakable theme tune blaring from the TV set was the best thing about Mondays. Each episode promised so many things: strange-looking costumes and sets, plenty of action scenes, and, oh, psychopathic, murderous robots. As a sci-fi addicted kid always looking for his next hit, I had, in the winter of 1987, discovered a new TV show to lose sleep over. I had a little taste — and I was totally hooked.