Huntington Beach
Sid shared a story with us about my inpromptu visit to his baseball card shop in Huntington Beach. Well, I’m glad I made your day by saying hello. I was probably in Huntington Beach visiting my middle son, Chris. I’m glad I stopped in the store, said hello and signed your ball. I’m glad that that sparked your interest in baseball. I never wanted to do anything else. I had a passion for the game. I knew the history of the game and I agree with you. Baseball has a true connection with history that cannot be duplicated in the arena of other American pro sports. I’ve always felt like baseball has served as both a reflection and a shaper of American society. Baseball is the most resilient sport of all. They are setting attendance records in both the Major and Minor leagues. It’s still healthy despite all its problems.
Every word of the story I told is true, so there's not much to add here except one thing. I didn't mention this in my post on Robinson's blog, but I always suspected that he came into the shop just to see if we'd recognize him. There was a 7-11 in the same shopping center, which is the junk food equivalent of a gas station, so I would think most people would head there for directions as well as tasty meat flavored products and gallons of soda. Also, as I said, the beach was only a mile or so away, so all you'd really have to do is roll down your car window and listen to the seagulls around the sewage pipes.
But I truly was embarrassed that I didn't recognize him. Of course he was a bit older than the pictures on the carboard slivers I sold, but he's a Hall of Famer and a great ambassador for baseball, and as a guy who was paid to know a bit about sports, it was a minor slip. Luckily, my manager was twenty years older than me or so and grew up watching Brooks and his generation of players, so rather than having an odd experience of a guy coming into a baseball card shop to ask directions to the ocean, we shared a moment of baseball history.
Again, thank you Brooks.
Dear Mr. Robinson,
I have a story that I think I should share with your readers.
About 15 years ago, I was working in a baseball card shop in Huntington Beach, California. One Saturday afternoon I was busy in the back sorting cards (he High School kids had to do all the tedious work!) when a middle-aged man comes in the store and asks my co-worker for directions to the beach. I thought this was odd, as the beach was just a mile or so down the road, and most everybody knew that you could follow any road to it. I looked out the little window we had to see my co-worker giving him directions, when the manager of the store looked up and stared at the man. I saw his jaw drop and his eyes grow wide.
That's when you said "Hi, I'm Brooks Robinson."
You chatted with us for a bit and signed a ball that is still on display in the shop, and went on your way. But for the rest of the day I felt like an idiot. One of the greatest to play the game had walked into my baseball card shop, and I hadn't recognized him.
On that day, you helped spark within me an interest and later, a passion, for the history of this great game.
While other sports may attempt to emulate it, baseball has a true connection with its history that cannot be duplicated in the arenas of the other American pro sports. A big part of the draw that gets people to the ballpark or tuning in on ESPN is the events and players of decades (or centuries) past. Unlike football, hockey, or basketball, baseball has a living memory that helps the fan in the stands connect with the player on the grass, and makes it possible to develop a true love for the game.
And you helped me learn that, Brooks.
Thank you.