As a 12 year old, like most 12 year old boys, I admired many celebrities from afar. From the silver screen, Clint Eastwood, Paul Newman and John Wayne. From television, Red Skelton, Johnny Carson, James Arness and Andy Griffith. Many were athletes, always St. Louis Cardinal baseball players. Baseball and everything associated with baseball consumed my spare time. Collecting cards, playing Strat-o-Matic or most often, playing baseball.
When I was 12 we would play our organized games at the local school yard. We had a supervisor who wore a bright yellow t-shirt. We knew he was the “supervisor” because it said so on the back of his shirt. The supervisor was an imposing, square-jawed, college-age man. Each morning he lugged the faded canvas bag of equipment in one hand and a folding lawn chair in his other hand from his car to the ball field. He would dump out the equipment which included bats, balls, catcher’s gear and the bases near the pitcher’s mound. Then he would unfold his chair behind the pitcher’s mound and the game would commence. I looked up to that supervisor because he knew a lot about baseball, helped others improve and was a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals.
As years went by, I would occasionally run into the supervisor and his relatives. I never stopped admiring him and his relatives. Not surprisingly he became a very successful coach. Very successful. His younger brother followed in his footsteps. He became a top-notch, multi-sport athlete and later a coach as well. I never knew their father, but I suspect his competitive spirit, humility and athletic skills molded his sons.
As an adult, I moved away and completely lost touch with this family. While living in Indiana in the 90’s, I watched the Illinois High School basketball tournament on television. I watched my former supervisor win a State Title with my supervisor’s brother serving as assistant coach. That was more than 25 years ago, but I remember it because I was proud of his success.
As luck would have it, I was able to reconnect with the supervisor and even played golf with him a time or two. I ended up working in the same building with his younger brother. We also played golf together and became friends.
Why am I sharing all these details of a 12 year old boy and a summer league baseball supervisor that very likely didn’t even remember me? Let me tell you.
Life went on with me as it did for these two guys. The supervisor and his brother each married, had children, stayed in the same community, and gave back to the school who had meant so much to them. They experienced success, health issues and unthinkable tragedy. While I was moving around the country and had lost track of them, I never knew what they had been dealing with in their lives. When we reconnected neither of them shared their personal issues or terrible loss with me.
In hindsight, that doesn’t surprise me at all. First it’s not the kind of thing that comes up as you’re walking down a fairway. Second, these two guys and their families aren’t the kind to bring attention to themselves. Their success, health issues and tragedies have always been dealt with humility, modesty and privacy.
Coincidentally, I reconnected with my former co-worker earlier this week. It was a brief exchange, but so good to connect.
Not surprisingly, just today, I ran across a story about this man and a tragedy of monumental proportion he and his wonderful, close-knit family dealt with 28 years ago. Of course there was no mention of this story during our exchange. The story was about the loss of their 12 year old son. I can’t imagine getting through something like that. I really can’t. But, as a family, they did. The entire family has turned this unthinkable loss into a triumph of the human spirit by honoring, celebrating and learning from what this special 12 year old taught them all.
I’ve been blessed and feel fortunate to have admired these two men from afar for more than 50 years. They made a difference in the life of this 12 year old boy and in turn their own 12 year old boy made a difference in their lives. And is still doing so. What a blessing.
Until next time…