I was nine years old sitting in Sportsman Park with my dad hoping that the rain would stop and I could see my heroes run onto the baseball field. I anticipated the hustling style of play that Enos Slaughter would show. I envisioned Marty 'Mister Shortstop" Marion gliding into the hole and making a tough play look easy. I couldn't wait for Stan 'The Man' Musial to set himself in the batters' box in that familiar crouching stance. They were the 1948 St. Louis Cardinals...my heroes!
Well, on this day the weather would deny those anticipated moments. I suppose my dad recognized the disappointment in his son's face as the public address announcer said: "Today's game has been canceled and will be rescheduled at a later date."
As we made our way to the exit, my father spoke, "We're not leaving just yet." When I asked why, dad said, "After the players shower and dress, they will leave the stadium by this exit and you are going to ask some of them for their autograph." We waited and waited; seemed like hours but I'm sure it was not. Soon I recognized players emerging from the doorway. Oh my, Terry Moore, then Red Shoendienst, Whitey Kurowski, Marty Marion and finally, 'The Man.' Every player stopped and signed my scorecard. Marion even asked me a question, "You a ball player kid?" Kurowski signed his name and said, "Thanks for hanging around son." I cannot capture in words the thrill of the moment, which still lives in that little boy's heart inside this aging body.
Recently, I read a report that a national baseball card show listed Major League Baseball players' names and the 'cost' of their autograph and a photo with them. Former St. Louis player, Albert Pujols will expect a nine year old kid to pay him $300 for his signature and an additional $300 for a photo with him. This is the same player who points towards the heavens when crossing home plate after hitting a home run.
I'm sorry kids that your baseball heroes are such greedy disingenuous phony people.
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