Click to view on Guideposts.com
I thought I'd heard it all, but then he came home with this one.
Baseball and my dad. In my mind the two go together. From the time I was a kid sitting on Dad's knee, he told me stories about amazing fly balls, great saves and Mazeroski—that rat!—who hit a home run to defeat the Yankees in the 1960 World Series.
Dad loved the Yankees, and he loved baseball. Whenever he had a problem, he went straight to his closet and took a big brown box down from the shelf. The box was full of baseball cards collected during his lifetime.
He would spend hours poring over them, pulling out his favorites, telling me all about the players. Soon whatever problem Dad was having faded into the background. There was no problem so big baseball couldn't fix it.
Dad spent a lot of time going through that box when he got laid off from his shoe-salesman's job. He fingered the cards, looking at one after another. But Dad was quiet. The players faces weren't sparking the old stories he told so well. He wasn't having any luck finding a new job.
"I'm praying that the right thing will come along," he told me. Months went by and Dad still couldn't find work. Seemed like a problem too big for baseball.
One day my parents sat my brother, sister and me down for some news. "I have an opportunity for us to buy a store," Dad explained. "A golden opportunity. I think this store is what God wants me to do in life."
"What are we going to sell?" I asked.
Dad grinned. "Baseball cards!"
My parents went to work that spring of 1994 setting up the store Dad called What's on Second. We all helped pass out flyers and organize shelves. But Dad made the store come alive. One afternoon after school I found him leaning on the counter across from a man in a Texas Rangers hat. As usual, Dad was in the middle of a story.
"Randy Gumpert was pitching for the White Sox that day," he said. The Rangers fan leaned in eagerly, enjoying Dad's delivery as much as I did, even after hearing it for the hundredth time. "Gumpert decided to show this new rookie what the majors were all about. He'd fool him with a change-up. He wound up, pitched-and bam!" Dad whistled and sailed his hand out into the air.
"That rookie smacked it dead center right into the bull pen. And that was Mickey Mantle's first home run in the major leagues."
"What year was that?" the man asked.
"Nineteen fifty-one!" Dad pulled out cards from 1951, telling the guy how Hank Bauer won the World Series for the Yanks with one sensational catch.
Yep, I thought, this must be where God wants him, all right. Not only did Dad love the work, but people came in just to hang out with him. By summer's end our new business was on the verge of success. Then the unthinkable happened—a baseball strike!
The fans were disgusted. They didn't even want to think about baseball. Business dropped to almost nothing. The players fought over million-dollar salaries, and our family prepared to lose everything. In the middle of breakfast one morning, the refrigerator let out a horrible crunch and died. Dad called a repairman friend for advice.
"What do you think it'll cost to fix it?" Dad said into the phone. He shook his head when he hung up. "Two hundred dollars," Dad reported. "Where will I get $200?"
Dad sat down at the head of the table. "We have one week for God to show me if I'm meant to be in the sports business. If not, I'll find another job." There was no sadness in his voice. I knew he'd do anything for us. But I also knew how much he wanted to keep his store.
Dad didn't go to his closet. He didn't pull down the big brown box from the shelf. Only God could fix this problem. God, I thought, "Dad really loves his store. If that's truly where you want him, please let us know."
We made do with our broken fridge. Dad went to work as usual, enjoying his last days at the job he loved. But that night he came home with quite a story.
"I got a call today from a lady looking for Troy Aikman's rookie card," he said. "I told her I had it, and she came right over to the store with her son."
"Just like that?" I asked.
"Just like that. She was an older lady, well-dressed. Very expensive jewelry. 'We'd like to see some of those rookie cards,' she said. She and her son studied dozens of cards, then moved on to football memorabilia. She made a pile on the counter and said, 'Stop me when my bill hits $500.'"
"Wow!" I said. "Five hundred dollars! Did she really spend that much?"
"She spent $700!" Dad said, smiling.
"How much profit is that for us?" Mom asked.
"Two hundred and one dollars exactly."
Just enough to fix the fridge and a dollar over. Thanks to one customer, we were back in business! Dad re-signed his lease. The baseball strike ended. Business flourished. Today, What's on Second is one of the largest sports-card stores in south Texas. If you come by to visit, my dad will be there telling his stories. He may even tell you this one, about how there's nothing God and baseball can't fix.