Memento said:
Man, have I got a story for you:
My mom decided to take my brother and I to a Cardinals game in the old Busch Stadium. I was eleven at the time; my brother was nine. We got tickets in right field, fair territory. They were extremely far back, so there was little chance of getting a home run. Anyway, my brother's favorite player, J.D. Drew, was up to bat. I can't remember which inning. Drew absolutely crushed a ball to right field. My brother got up to get the ball, and I followed him. Two guys got there before we did, but they gave us the ball when they saw us. My brother's eyes just lit up like a Christmas tree. I couldn't thank them enough; it meant a lot to him.
So, we find J.D. Drew, and my brother asks for him to sign the ball. He does so with a smile. And to this very day, my brother has kept the ball on his dresser.
Not as impressive as RF4L's tales or DR Ram's stories, but it's the best I have, so...
Nothing wrong with that story, man. That's a good one too. It's those kinds of events that happen when you're a little kid that stick with you forever. Pure, innocent joy - if you will. I like those stories. I also like how a thread about a tragedy spawns such feel-good stories.
I have a story about being 11 years old too. It doesn't include any brushes with famous players, but it's an event in my life that both me and my mom still recall as if it happened yesterday. I can only call it a miracle given the circumstances.
I was, like I said, 11 years old and playing in little league. I wasn't very good at the time, and spent a lot of time on the bench. It was a league wherein the 11 and 12 year olds played, and the next year you graduated to a different league (I can't remember the name of the next level). Anyway, I was a role player at right field and occasionally got to bat - though with little success (maybe a .200 average). Our team sponsor was Collins Irrigation and Sprinkler Supply, and Mr. Collins was our coach. Good guy, and he knew my mom through their respective businesses. He, obviously owned a sprinkler company, and my mom worked for a General Contractor who used him for jobs on new home construction projects.
Fast forward to the middle of the season. My mom was involved in a horrific car crash that threw her from her car and she ended up hospitalized with severe lacerations on her legs and a broken arm. I missed a couple of games because I wanted to be at the hospital with her (obviously), and I'm sure I wasn't really missed. When she finally started to get on the fast track to recovery, she said I should go play that weekend and not to worry about her anymore because she'd be fine. I was reluctant, but said I would. I also said, verbatim, "I'm gonna play this game for you, mom." She knew I wasn't a great talent at the time, but she still said (verbatim), "I know you'll be the best one out there."
Fast forward to the weekend. We're all warming up before the game, throwing to each other and playing pepper and whatnot when the coach came out with the lineup. I was a scratch, obviously. Instead of accepting that, I asked him to let me start at RF and make someone else sit. He wasn't going to do that, and he explained that this particular game was important (as important as a little league game can be). He tried to sidestep me, but I stepped him front of him and pleaded my case. This happened two more times until our assistant coach, Dr. Lee, said (again, verbatim) "Let the kid play, Gary. You know JoAnne's laid up." So he did.
First at bat - triple to right field.
Second at bat - triple to left field.
Third at bat - double to left field, bad throw to second, ended up on third.
In the field I had a diving catch to right-center and doubled up a runner at 2nd.
I never had a game like that the rest of the season. After the game, coach Collins presented me with the game ball and wrote on it, "best game ever played." That ball is still in my mom's entertainment center to this day, and it serves as a constant reminder that people can transcend their physical limitations with enough motivation.
