01/20/2013
MEMORIES OF MY DAD, THE MAN AND HOT SUMMER AFTERNOONS AT THE BALL PARK
Today my childhood ended. My first and all time hero has left, STAN MUSIAL has gone on.
Stan the Man was my Grandfather’s, My Dad’s and my favorite baseball player. I first saw Stan Musial when I was four years old. My Dad and Mom took me to old Busch Stadium, not the one downtown but the one on Grand, old Sportsman Park. My first game was the Cardinals and the Phillies. I don’t remember who pitched for the Cardinals; I do remember Robin Roberts pitched for the Phillies. I was four and I was there to see Stan the Man. I was restless and didn’t really see the point of watching all those other guys, I only had eyes for Stan. In the second or third inning Stan parked one and my Dad said, I looked at him and said time to go home. That was 1953 and for the next ten years every year my Dad and I would go out to that old ball park and watch “The Man.” I saw him play outfield, I saw him play first base and I saw him hit. “The Man” could hit. I saw him hit home runs. I saw drive runs in and my Dad and I were there with the family movie camera the day he broke Hornus Wagner” double record, unfortunately in the excitement my Dad forgot to take the lens cap off the camera. Some of the best times I had with my Dad were watching this great ballplayer, this great man play the greatest game on earth.
When I was about ten for my birthday, my Dad took me to Musial and Biggie’s Steakhouse for dinner but dinner was the side show, I was there to meet Stan Musial and I did. He stopped by the table and talked to my Dad, I tried to talk but I was in awe of this great man, this baseball god. He shook my hand and patted me on the head and signed a picture.
When I was a kid, they didn’t have the replica uniforms like they have had for the last thirty or so years. That is too bad, if they had those jerseys it would have saved me from being in trouble with my Mom all the time. Each year when we were getting ready to pick up play ball in the lot down our block, I would ruin one of my undershirts by drawing a big number “6” on the back. I also was given a Rawlings first basemen’ mitt by a friend of my Dad’s, you guessed it a Musial model. I still have it.
In his last season, we went to the park a lot. I wasn’t there for his last game but it was on our black and white television and when it was over I cried and I looked at my Dad and I saw a tear in his eye and he simply said, “We’ll never see another one like “the Man.” My Dad was right. Stan Musial was one of us a regular guy, he cut his own lawn; went to Mass at St Raphael’s
In 1970, I was on the campaign staff of Sen. Stuart Symington’s issues and attitude committee, chaired by the late Larry Carp. On that committee was also Kim Patrick Pepple who became my friend and college roommate, we drafted position papers and some campaign material. Once a week we were required to go to an evening campaign meeting. The meeting was held at Musial and Biggie’s. The first meeting that I attended I walked in the restaurant casually started looking around in hoped of seeing the Man. He was nowhere to be found. I was disappointed. Finally Larry and Kim suggested I get a move on and go up stairs to the conference room to the meeting. I walked into the room, which was filled with political and business bigwigs and sat down. I looked up and across the table, there he was Mr. Musial. I have no recollection of what happened at the meeting, I just remembered that I sat across the table from Stan Musial for almost two hours.
After graduating from college in 1976, I went to work at a local radio station and worked in news and sports. I also got a second job as a stringer for a sports network. I got to cover college and the Blues and the Cardinals. I worked in the press box, sometimes the auxiliary press box. I don’t remember a lot but what I do remember is getting to interview Ted Simmons and getting to see Stan Musial and sometimes getting the courage to speak to him. It was a thrill to see him every time he was at game. I never asked him to sign anything, that would have been unprofessional, I didn’t need to, the” hi ya kid” or some derivative of that was enough for me.
After I left the radio job I went to graduate school in Michigan and only saw “the Man” once more at the ball park from the seats.
Over the next few days, he will be honored for his ability as a ball player and for his integrity and decency as a man. I can’t add to that. My tribute to Stan “the Man” Musial is the time I shared with my Dad at the Ball park, watching him and cheering for him. In later years when my Dad and I talked baseball, the conversation eventually would gravitate to stories and memories of those summers at the park and Stan the Man.
I had three heroes as a kid. My favorite basketball player was Bob Pettit of the old Hawks; my favorite football player was Ron Kramer former end at the University of Michigan and Green Bay Packers and Stan the Man. Bob Pettit and Ron Kramer were special players, Stan Musial was my first hero and will always be because the bond I had with my Dad developed and grew those hot St. Louis summers at the ball park. The rides there, with the anticipation of what would happen and the sometimes jubilant rides home with a win, sometimes quiet rides home after a loss. But win or lose watching “the Man” was the reason we were there, together.
I can’t think of those summers without thinking of my Dad and I can’t think about those days at the ball park with my Dad without thinking of Stan the Man. Thank you Mr. Musial.
