Wearing his usual striped tie with the navy sportcoat over his shoulder

Today I think about my dad on the 19^th anniversary of his passing. He taught me most of what I know about life, love and how to be a good person.

He also taught me 99 percent of what I know about baseball. I don’t even remember when we started watching games, I must have been six or seven, but I loved the time with Daddy and I loved sharing it with him.

I wanted to play baseball, but the closest thing to Little League for a girl in Arkansas in the 1960s was YMCA softball, so I signed up. The fly balls and grounders Daddy threw me in the front yard made me a pretty good third baseman and what he taught me about hitting earned me the cleanup spot in the lineup. I loved watching the outfielders back up when I came to the plate.

Every year we spent the better part of a week in St. Louis watching Cardinal games in person. I sat next to Daddy so I could listen to him talk about the game. He taught me to fill in the scorecard, told me about Stan Musial and how the catcher gives signs to the pitcher. We went early to watch batting practice and get autographs.

Sundays at home were baseball days; we watched on TV each Sunday after church and in the evenings during the week; we listened on the radio in the car on our way home from trips to the lake.

You can barely see the words “National League”

I’ve got lots of old baseball moments from the 60s and 70s — here are the highlights:

• Watching Bob Gibson warm up, standing about 10 feet away. I still remember the intensity, the concentration, the sound of the ball hitting the glove at 90-something miles per hour.
• Getting Lou Brock’s autograph
• Catching a foul ball in the bottom of the second inning, after getting hit with a foul ball during batting practice
• Meeting Stan Musial and getting his autograph (true to his reputation, he was kind and gracious)
• Getting a photo of Hank Aaron looking right at me and waving, the year before he broke the home run record. Sadly, some idiot stole the roll of film from our hotel room.

Over the past two years, I’ve made some new baseball memories: last year’s St. Louis trip with the family, September’s amazing comeback, playoff race and the World Series. Game Six — enough said. And less than a month ago, a chance to see the World Series trophy at AutoZone Park.

When Stan Musial’s wife passed away recently, my first thought was, “Daddy just met Mrs. Musial.” I love the thought of him watching Game Six from heaven. And, boy would he have loved to see that trophy.