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| Love for baseball inherited from father |
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| Sports | |||
| Written by Gene Morris | |||
| Wednesday, 24 June 2009 08:00 | |||
My father, Franklin, had a good laugh Sunday afternoon as he opened my card and began listening to the words of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello from the duo’s famous “Who’s on First?” routine. The father’s day card spoke to me because of its baseball theme, and the fact that they were the St. Louis Wolves didn’t hurt one bit either, considering we are both lifelong St. Louis fans.You see, who’s on first? What’s on second? I don’t know — third base. It is a hilarious routine from a baseball sketch Abbott and Costello did for the 1945 film “The Naughty Nineties.” I also liked the card because it did not have a lot of words on it already. I wanted to let dad know how much he means to me in my own words. “Dad, it is your day. My buddy, my friend, the man who showed me how to be a man and what it means to be there for family and friends. Happy Father’s Day. Love, Gene.” There would never be enough space on that card to tell him everything. We almost lost dad in 1998. He was revived four times at the hospital, and we all got the call you never want to hear in the middle of the night. I only asked God for one thing that night — the chance to say goodbye. The Lord answered my prayer and gave me so much more time to spend with my best buddy. When my twin brother, Ray, and I were born in December 1968 to Genevieve and Franklin Morris, we were No. 5 and No. 6 in what would later become seven in December 1972 with the birth of Eric, the youngest. Cindy, the only girl, is the oldest, followed by Tim, who got two surprises on his sixth birthday with the birth of us twins landing on his day. Terry was the next oldest, born on Thanksgiving Day 1964. Would you believe, our “Turkey” baby, went on two win two Prep North Turkey Day cross country races, winning not only the race but a turkey for our dinner? John was the middle child. Seven in all. We had the television family “Eight is Enough” beaten by one. My dad loves to brag on all of us, too, telling everyone about his seven children who all graduated from college. There are days when I get home from work and fall asleep in front of the television. I know there were evenings when dad wanted to do the same thing, but there were places to go and games to be played. We were all involved in sports, not to mention Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts, school choirs, plays and other activities. I am still not sure how they managed, but mom and dad were always there. Growing up a huge baseball fan, I am sure I drove my father crazy on more than one occasion, flipping through my baseball cards during the game. Every time the announcer mentioned someone coming up to bat, I would inject my own information from the back of one of my bubble gum cards. “Did you know he used to play for the Royals? This guy was a former rookie of the year.” And, things of that nature. Over the years, my dad told me a number of great baseball stories. My love for sports, even from a young age, was formed and encouraged by my father. He told me about the time Dick Allen, the long time Philadelphia Phillies first baseman, who played for the Cardinals in 1970, hit the cover off the ball. Roy Hobbs did this to his first pitch he saw in the movie “The Natural,” but I never knew anyone did it in real life. There was a question on a Fox Sports game of the week one Saturday about St. Louis Cardinal Bill White playing in the 1963 All-Star Game. My father, watching the game on television with me, took the trivia question a step further. He said it was the year of the St. Louis Cardinals All-Star Infield. Ken Boyer was starting at third base for the National League. Dick Groat was at shortstop. Playing second base was Julian Javier. White was at first. His favorite story was the one about Enos “Country” Slaughter’s mad dash home from all the way from first base on a base hit by Harry Walker as the Cardinals defeated the Boston Red Sox in the 1946 World Series. Dad was sick and wanted some orange juice. Grandpa told him if the Cardinals won the World Series, he would have his orange juice. Slaughter, who was going on the play, caught Boston sleeping, running through a stop sign at third base to score the go-ahead run in the bottom of the eighth inning. I met Slaughter during a Cardinals banquet in 1996, honoring the 1946 team and shared my dad’s story. I told Slaughter he was my dad’s favorite player for the way he hustled all of the time. Slaughter smiled and laughed, signing an autograph for my dad, which hangs on his bedroom wall today. I asked Slaughter why he played the game the way he did, known for running to first base, even on a base on balls. Something my favorite player, Pete Rose, said he learned from watching Slaughter hustle. “The first game I played, I walked off the field between innings,” Slaughter told me. “The manager asked me if I was tired. I said no. He said if I was tired, we could fine someone else to go out and play for you. From that day on, I hit the field running and I left the field running.” My dad approaches life the same way his favorite player did — he hit each day running and always went the extra mile for us kids. Happy Father’s Day, dad.
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