Last time you said you want to talk about meeting people.
Not just people. Some athletes, past and present.
Okay.
Well, the first meeting I can’t remember, unfortunately. I was only about 7 years old. A neighbor, Jim P., was a semi-pro baseball player. And he introduced me to Hank Greenberg, who was the big slugger of that period, the late 1930s.
I’ve heard of him.
Jim pitched for the Bushwicks, and some major-league players would stop by. And Jim got me a baseball autographed by several of the big-league players. And Greenberg was the most famous at that time.
Here’s the baseball with Hank’s signature. It’s old and faded now. After all, it’s about 79 years old.
But it’s nice to have, even if I don’t remember the actual meeting.
I guess so.
Others I do remember. You may recall I said I was a fan of the Brooklyn Dodgers back in my high-school days.
I remember that mug.
And I talked about Jackie Robinson. The first black ballplayer in the major leagues. He broke in in 1947.
Right.
Well, it was after his second season, in 1948, that I met him.
See, I went off to college in September of that year. And Jackie came to Bucknell. He talked with a group of us about baseball, and also he talked about determination and success and that sort of thing.
A motivational speaker?
Yeah. That’s it. And we got to talk about both. And he took questions. It was pretty nice.
Now … I’d like to fast-forward a couple of decades just to make a point. Is that okay?
Go ahead.
It was in the 1960s. By then I was involved with the civil-rights movement. And I was aware that Jackie was affiliated with the NAACP headquarters in New York. So one night — it was late; I had just been to a meeting — I decided to sit down and write a note to Jackie and mail it care of the headquarters.
After that I kind of forgot about it. Just wanted to tell him a little about what I was doing. Reminded him of his visit to Bucknell. And you know what? A little while later I got a reply from him. A handwritten letter; very personal.
Nice.
Yeah, but here’s the thing. I thought I had that letter in a certain dresser drawer. But when I looked for it one day it wasn’t there. And a scrapbook with other memorabilia wasn’t there either. I guess both were lost during one of my moves over the years.
But, anyway, I have the memories. And here’s another one. Another ballplayer. You’ve heard of Denny Neagle?
Yes.
Well, he grew up in Maryland. Was an Orioles fan. Baltimore Orioles. But, when he reached the major leagues, he signed with another team. I got to meet him when he was with the Colorado Rockies.
I was visiting relatives in Colorado when the Rockies were in spring training in Tucson. We were watching them practice and he noticed I was wearing an Orioles cap.
Because, of course, he had been an Orioles fan. He called over to me about it. And when the team finished its workout he came over to me. We talked and I had a picture taken of us together. And — does this sound like a broken record? — I’ve looked for that photo and can’t find it.
I know the feeling.
But I have two more meetings to talk about, and I do have the pictures to prove it.
Good.
I was a fan of the Baltimore Colts.
And they moved to Indianapolis.
Hey. Don’t even go there. Yeah, the owner moved them one snowy night. But my memories leave out that part.
I guess Johnny Unitas, the quarterback, got most of the publicity. And he was good, all right. But my favorite player was Lenny Moore.
Because he was so versatile. He was listed as a halfback — today they call them running backs — but he was equally good as a receiver. And fast. He and Unitas had the timing down pat. They’d work a slant-in pass that was almost impossible to defend.
And he was no slouch as a blocker either. He threw the key block in the 1958 championship game that let Alan Ameche go over for the winning touchdown in overtime. That’s Lenny on the left.
Anyway, I met him one day at some event where I was volunteering. Another volunteer had a Polaroid camera with her — remember them? — and I asked her to please leave one shot for me if I could wangle a pose with Lenny. And she did save one.
So I talked with Lenny. Recalled the block he threw. And she took the picture. And I got Lenny to autograph it. And it’s in my collection.
Very nice.
Yeah. It’s a keeper.
Now I have one more meeting I’d like to share with you. With Brooks Robinson of the Orioles.
Third baseman.
Yep. Some say the best ever.
It starts with the 1970 World Series. Brooks playing third. Won the Most Valuable Player for his defensive play. One play in particular stands our. A line drive into the gap. A sure hit. But Brooks dove and speared it on the fly. Landed on the dirt, on his left elbow, holding up the ball to show it never hit the ground. The play has been preserved in many a picture.
Fast-forward to the 1980s. I’m at an Orioles game, but that one was preceded by a 3-inning Old-Timers Game. Brooks playing third. Line drive into the gap. Brooks dove and speared it. Landed on the dirt, with his glove up, the same way as in the Series game.
Wow.
I tell you, the crowd went wild. Louder than after any play during the regular game. There must have been plenty of fans there who remembered tha Series game.
Okay. Fast-forward again to the year 2000. I’m at a fund-raising event where Brooks is the guest speaker.
At one point Brooks made himself available to talk with the people there. When I had a chance, I told him about my being at that Old Timers Game and the catch he made that looked like the World Series catch. And he smiled and said, yes, he remembered that repeat play. And then I got someone to photograph us together.
Looking good.
It was a fun time. All my meetings with those sports legends were enjoyable. And, in two cases, I have the photos to prove it.