Teach
12-20-2013, 07:19 AM
I was shaking like a kid on his first day of school. There was no other athlete - make that person in the world - that I wanted more to meet.
All my life, I had been a huge Red Sox fan. In 1949, my father would take his then six-year-old son to his first Red Sox game at Fenway Park.
As I think back, I don't remember much about the game. I don't even remember whom the Red Sox were playing that day. But I do remember that my father talked a lot about a great Red Sox player. His name was Ted Williams.
Well, I had long since moved out of my old Boston neighborhood and was now living west of Boston and teaching in Framingham, MA. Yet, in 1980-81, I took a leave-of-absence from teaching to work at CBS radio in Boston's Manager of Network Sports Operations. My principal job was to oversee WEEI's New England Patriots radio network.
It was during that late winter/early spring of 1981 that I first learned that our sports talk show was going to have Ted Williams as a guest. Williams, an avid fisherman, would frequently come to Boston in the spring to appear at the sportsmen's and camping show that was held in Boston's Hynes Auditorium (when I was a boy, it was held in Mechanics Hall on Huntington Ave.).
As I turn back the clock, by the early 1950s, my friends and I would take in several Red Sox games each year. By that time -- before Williams was called to active duty with the Marines during the Korean War -- I began to realize that Williams was no ordinary ballplayer.
Well, when Williams had returned from the service at a Marine Corps aviator, I had gained an even greater appreciation for Williams's hitting skills. I recall that whenever Williams came to the plate, the mood inside Fenway Park would change. It was a moment not unlike when our elementary school principal, a woman named Miss Quinn, would walk into our classroom when we had been unruly. There was an immediate hush. Everyone was now attentive and sitting up straight; we were now on our best behavior. Only at Fenway Park, all eyes would be riveted on the lanky left-handed batter at the plate.
When Williams was in the batter's box preparing to hit, it was like observing a finely-tuned watch. Frankly, Williams's appearance at the plate was spellbinding. There was beauty and grace in everything he did, even when he swung and missed. As I look back, some ten years after his death, I've truly come to appreciate Williams's greatness. It was if Williams had been put on this earth to hit a baseball.
Back in the early 1980s, radio station WEEI was located on the 44th floor of Boston's Prudential Tower. We were up so high that I could, in offices that faced west, look down into nearby Fenway Park. I remember on that morning of Williams's arrival I looked down into an empty Fenway Park and relived my memories of Ted Williams's plate appearances.
Well, just before Williams arrived that late afternoon, I was waiting in WEEI's lobby. I felt then, just as I had years earlier, when I'd wait for my Dad to come home from work. A few minutes later, the door opened. There he was. In person. I looked at him. My heart skipped a beat. I was entranced. Enthralled. My hero. "The Greatest Hitter Who Ever Lived". He was now just a few feet away from me.
As I recall, there were also others in the lobby: our talk show hosts, the talk show producer and one of our sales guys. I remember the sales guy, a man named Bob, spoke with Williams about his own brief minor league career in the Dodgers organization. He began talking with Williams about hitting. I remember that as soon as the topic of hitting came up, Williams became animated. He was only too happy to discuss his favorite subject.
As Williams spoke with the others in the lobby, I rushed into my office to get a baseball that I had recently received at a dinner honoring the late Red Sox owner, Tom Yawkey. I desperately wanted Williams's autograph on that baseball. I gave the ball to Williams; he signed it on the "sweet spot".
After Williams signed my baseball (he also signed his book on hitting for one of the talk show hosts), we began chatting about the then current Red Sox team. We also talked about hitting and fishing. About ten minutes later, Williams was ushered into our sports talk studio to get ready to take calls from our listeners. I remember waiting around for a while to watch the beginning of the show.
A few minutes later, I left the Prudential Tower and headed for my car. As I walked along Boylston Street, I felt as if I were on "Cloud Nine". No, make that #9 (Williams's number). I felt at that moment that I had achieved a sense of fulfillment. I had just met my boyhood hero. The man whom I wanted to meet more than anyone else in the world. "Splendid Splinter." "Teddy Ballgame." "The Kid". Theodore Samuel Williams.
Have any on the former met a famous celebrity? A boyhood/girlhood idol?
All my life, I had been a huge Red Sox fan. In 1949, my father would take his then six-year-old son to his first Red Sox game at Fenway Park.
As I think back, I don't remember much about the game. I don't even remember whom the Red Sox were playing that day. But I do remember that my father talked a lot about a great Red Sox player. His name was Ted Williams.
Well, I had long since moved out of my old Boston neighborhood and was now living west of Boston and teaching in Framingham, MA. Yet, in 1980-81, I took a leave-of-absence from teaching to work at CBS radio in Boston's Manager of Network Sports Operations. My principal job was to oversee WEEI's New England Patriots radio network.
It was during that late winter/early spring of 1981 that I first learned that our sports talk show was going to have Ted Williams as a guest. Williams, an avid fisherman, would frequently come to Boston in the spring to appear at the sportsmen's and camping show that was held in Boston's Hynes Auditorium (when I was a boy, it was held in Mechanics Hall on Huntington Ave.).
As I turn back the clock, by the early 1950s, my friends and I would take in several Red Sox games each year. By that time -- before Williams was called to active duty with the Marines during the Korean War -- I began to realize that Williams was no ordinary ballplayer.
Well, when Williams had returned from the service at a Marine Corps aviator, I had gained an even greater appreciation for Williams's hitting skills. I recall that whenever Williams came to the plate, the mood inside Fenway Park would change. It was a moment not unlike when our elementary school principal, a woman named Miss Quinn, would walk into our classroom when we had been unruly. There was an immediate hush. Everyone was now attentive and sitting up straight; we were now on our best behavior. Only at Fenway Park, all eyes would be riveted on the lanky left-handed batter at the plate.
When Williams was in the batter's box preparing to hit, it was like observing a finely-tuned watch. Frankly, Williams's appearance at the plate was spellbinding. There was beauty and grace in everything he did, even when he swung and missed. As I look back, some ten years after his death, I've truly come to appreciate Williams's greatness. It was if Williams had been put on this earth to hit a baseball.
Back in the early 1980s, radio station WEEI was located on the 44th floor of Boston's Prudential Tower. We were up so high that I could, in offices that faced west, look down into nearby Fenway Park. I remember on that morning of Williams's arrival I looked down into an empty Fenway Park and relived my memories of Ted Williams's plate appearances.
Well, just before Williams arrived that late afternoon, I was waiting in WEEI's lobby. I felt then, just as I had years earlier, when I'd wait for my Dad to come home from work. A few minutes later, the door opened. There he was. In person. I looked at him. My heart skipped a beat. I was entranced. Enthralled. My hero. "The Greatest Hitter Who Ever Lived". He was now just a few feet away from me.
As I recall, there were also others in the lobby: our talk show hosts, the talk show producer and one of our sales guys. I remember the sales guy, a man named Bob, spoke with Williams about his own brief minor league career in the Dodgers organization. He began talking with Williams about hitting. I remember that as soon as the topic of hitting came up, Williams became animated. He was only too happy to discuss his favorite subject.
As Williams spoke with the others in the lobby, I rushed into my office to get a baseball that I had recently received at a dinner honoring the late Red Sox owner, Tom Yawkey. I desperately wanted Williams's autograph on that baseball. I gave the ball to Williams; he signed it on the "sweet spot".
After Williams signed my baseball (he also signed his book on hitting for one of the talk show hosts), we began chatting about the then current Red Sox team. We also talked about hitting and fishing. About ten minutes later, Williams was ushered into our sports talk studio to get ready to take calls from our listeners. I remember waiting around for a while to watch the beginning of the show.
A few minutes later, I left the Prudential Tower and headed for my car. As I walked along Boylston Street, I felt as if I were on "Cloud Nine". No, make that #9 (Williams's number). I felt at that moment that I had achieved a sense of fulfillment. I had just met my boyhood hero. The man whom I wanted to meet more than anyone else in the world. "Splendid Splinter." "Teddy Ballgame." "The Kid". Theodore Samuel Williams.
Have any on the former met a famous celebrity? A boyhood/girlhood idol?