AN AUTOGRAPH FOR BOB, 62 YEARS AFTER THE FACT

Back in the summer of 1956 I was trying to put the disappointment of an all-to-short stint in professional baseball behind me as an 18-year-old rookie member of the St. Thomas Elgins of the Senior Intercounty Baseball League.  I held my own that season but it was not without ups and downs.

I had just stepped into the batter's box in the bottom of the sixth inning of one particular game against the Kitchener Panthers at Pinafore Park in St. Thomas when I heard manager Tommy White yell "time" as he lept out of the dugout.   "Pinch hitter", the tobacco chomping Tommy announced to plate umpire Snapper Binns.

Not believing that I was being yanked so unceremoniously from the game and suddenly inflicted with a convenient loss of hearing, I stayed in the batter's box.  "You're coming out of the game Dick...I'm putting a pinch hitter in for you," said an obviously agitated Tommy.

I tossed my bat aside and walked dejectedly to the dugout.  I had never before been pulled from a game.  I was both deflated and embarrassed.

Without stopping, I picked up my glove from the bench and headed to the dressing room at the back of the grandstand.  Enroute I was approached by a young lad, about 14 years old, with a note pad in his hand.  "Can I have your autograph?" he asked politely.

Bob (then)

I was in no mood to sign my first-ever autograph and pushed past the young fellow, slamming the dressing room door behind me.  I can't remember if I said anything at the time but I do recall thinking that I was the last person he should be asking for an autograph and that it was all so unfortunate and inopportune.

Quickly changing my clothes, I left the ball park and went AWOL, ending up catching a bus for my home in Dresden where I spent the weekend pondering my future in baseball -- period.

When I returned to St. Thomas the following week I caught hell from my landlady for not letting her know of my whereabouts and then from manager Tommy for leaving the ball team unannounced.  They were both justified in their annoyance and concern.

I put the entire incident out of my mind for a good 10 years until, in fact, I was chatting one day with Bob Massecar, a fellow newspaper reporter. Conjuring up his best sad face, Bob reminded me that he was the young autograph seeker that I had so abruptly rejected during an Elgins game at Pinafore Park all those years before.

Bob (today)

I couldn't believe it. I felt terrible and apologized profusely...Bob's a good guy and I think that he forgave me.

But, you know what?  My conscience still bothers me to this day.  Young Bob genuinely wanted my autograph and had no way of knowing what was going on in my own immature mind after being pulled from that game. I thoughtlessly made my dejection his rejection.

Suddenly, the bright idea struck me this morning that it is still not too late to try to make it up to Bob.  I can belatedly send him my autograph electronically, along with this little story. Hopefully he'll get a kick out of it.

So here you are Bob...Sorry my friend!

For what it's worth, sincerely yours,

-- Dick