Dad's Best Baseball Story

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!