Friday July 17, 2009
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How I got (sort of) the
Mickey Mantle
Autograph
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How I got (sort of) the
Mickey Mantle
Autograph
I think the year was 1961 or ’62. I was 12 years old. I had been going to Washington Senators’ baseball games for 3-4 years, by then.
I, even, went to games at old Griffith Stadium at 7th & W Street in Washington, DC, next to Howard University.
My group of pals that went were always allowed to stay 40-50 minutes after a game to get autographs .. when the players would exit the Park and walk to their cars if it was Senators – or buses if it were the opposing team.
It wasn’t always easy to get big-dog players .. but you could always get some.
But I digress, this one night-time Summer game was with the New York Yankees. The Mick, old # 7 was my hero. Home Runs, that’s why.
After the game, I ran up to him, stuck my pen into his right hand and the paper pad into his left hand. That always worked with most players.
But Mickey was determined to get on the bus .. and he said to me – I’ll sign it out of the window .. and handed my stuff back to me.
By the time, I figured out where Mick was sitting, there were 30-40 big kids at his window. I walked around to where he could see me but I couldn’t get closer. Finally, I went to the rear of the bus. They weren’t quite as big in those days and so I climbed up onto the top of the bus. Then, I slid over to Mick’s window .. and held the paper & pen down to him. Within a few minutes – he took my pen & paper .. but when he stuck it back out – he did so, lower than I was able to reach .. and some little Black kid grabbed it and ran.
So, I jumped down off the bus and chased the little Black kid. He ran fast .. but I ran hard – and I caught up to him down in a corner of the chain link fence by the Anacostia River. He was trapped like a rat .. and just like a rat – he fought back. He looked at me with bulging eyeballs and told me that he’d kill me.
Kill me ? No, I’m thinking I better step off .. and so I do. I walk back to my group but I kept looking back at the little Black kid. I was none too happy .. but what are you going to do. The little Black kid told me he’d kill me. I was like, 12. :dunno:
Damn !
So, I tell my girlfriend this story. She’s not all ‘hey Larry what’s fact and what’s not’ .. cause she’s not a bitch ! She loved my retelling of a historic happenstance .. and so she went to some card show and bought me an 8x10 color glossy photo with Mick’s autograph on it in blue felt pen.
Good times. Good times.
I, even, went to games at old Griffith Stadium at 7th & W Street in Washington, DC, next to Howard University.
My group of pals that went were always allowed to stay 40-50 minutes after a game to get autographs .. when the players would exit the Park and walk to their cars if it was Senators – or buses if it were the opposing team.
It wasn’t always easy to get big-dog players .. but you could always get some.
But I digress, this one night-time Summer game was with the New York Yankees. The Mick, old # 7 was my hero. Home Runs, that’s why.
After the game, I ran up to him, stuck my pen into his right hand and the paper pad into his left hand. That always worked with most players.
But Mickey was determined to get on the bus .. and he said to me – I’ll sign it out of the window .. and handed my stuff back to me.
By the time, I figured out where Mick was sitting, there were 30-40 big kids at his window. I walked around to where he could see me but I couldn’t get closer. Finally, I went to the rear of the bus. They weren’t quite as big in those days and so I climbed up onto the top of the bus. Then, I slid over to Mick’s window .. and held the paper & pen down to him. Within a few minutes – he took my pen & paper .. but when he stuck it back out – he did so, lower than I was able to reach .. and some little Black kid grabbed it and ran.
So, I jumped down off the bus and chased the little Black kid. He ran fast .. but I ran hard – and I caught up to him down in a corner of the chain link fence by the Anacostia River. He was trapped like a rat .. and just like a rat – he fought back. He looked at me with bulging eyeballs and told me that he’d kill me.
Kill me ? No, I’m thinking I better step off .. and so I do. I walk back to my group but I kept looking back at the little Black kid. I was none too happy .. but what are you going to do. The little Black kid told me he’d kill me. I was like, 12. :dunno:
Damn !
So, I tell my girlfriend this story. She’s not all ‘hey Larry what’s fact and what’s not’ .. cause she’s not a bitch ! She loved my retelling of a historic happenstance .. and so she went to some card show and bought me an 8x10 color glossy photo with Mick’s autograph on it in blue felt pen.
Good times. Good times.
LARRY..CURTIS..SPURLOCK
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