Most grown men can recall those special youth-moment-memories shared with their Dad. I suppose the 'Field of Dreams' movie scene where Kevin Costner's character finally has that (baseball) 'catch' with his deceased father tugs at the heart of many men as they remember similar times with their Father.
No different from millions of others, I too recall endless sports' moments with my Dad. At age eight and nine, I waited eagerly for Dad to get home from work so we could head to the backyard for 'catch' and shooting hoops. Growing up so near St. Louis, I guess it was inevitable that the Roustio's would be either St. Louis Cardinals or St. Louis Browns fans; Dad favored the Redbirds and naturally, I followed suit.
I remember the first Cardinals game that my Dad took me to in 1945. I do not recall the Cardinals' opponent that day nor the game's outcome. However, I will remember until I die what my Dad pointed out to me (seventy years ago) as we sat together in Sportsman Park. Dad said, "I want you to pay attention to one ball player as much as you can today. His jersey number is '9' and his name is Enos Slaughter." My Dad continued, "Enos Slaughter will sprint fast to his position in right field and when the inning is over, he will sprint fast to the dugout. He will 'hustle' at all times. If you ever play on a team, I want you to play the game like Enos 'Country' Slaughter."
I thought of that moment yesterday morning when I got a text-photo from my grandson who plays baseball at Eastern Illinois University. He wanted to show me a Cardinals jersey he recently purchased. The jersey's back sported # 9 and the name, 'Slaughter.' It is so strange the things that cause burning tears to form so quickly in an old man's eyes.
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