“THE MAN”

 

 

“THE MAN”

 

I grew up in the midwestern town of Decatur, Illinois (The Soy Bean Capital of the World”).

My father, an avid New York Giant fan, would often take me to St. Louis to watch my beloved Cardinals play in a decrepit, wooden ball park, called Sportsman’s Park. That place was a little bit of heaven to me. I was totally thrilled to see all my idols like Red Schoendist, Marty Marion, Enos Slaughter, Terry Moore, etc. – in person!

I religiously listened to every Red Bird ball game on the radio, but was over-joyed to see my personal favorite, “Stan the Man”. The hairs on my arm stood up as soon as I spotted him on the field. Same thing happens today whenever I hear his name.

After one particular game, the Cards won three to two on a ninth inning homer by my idol, dad took me out to eat at a place, called “Stan and Biggies Steak House”. Stan was allegedly a partner.

Halfway through the meal, “The Man” walks in! I came close to fainting! He made his way through the restaurant, shaking the hands of the patrons. I thought he’d never get to my table.

Miracle!

He got to my table!

He shook my trembling hand, said a few words I never remember and moved on.

I ate the rest of my meal with my left hand lest I lose Musial’s DNA. When I got home, I refused to wash my hands. My mother insisted. I washed just the left one. I had to preserve that Musial aura. Maybe it would make me a great ball-player someday. To this day, he remains my sports hero, number one! I can still feel his hand, griping mine!

Unfortunately, when I told my friends, they did not believe me! Their best responses: “prove it” or “you’re a liar”!

No matter. I still worship “The Man” to this day.