CurlyShavings

Bart Johnson pitched for the Chicago White Sox from 1969 through 1977. An accomplished player, he has quite a story and has impacted a number of people over the years.

My own connection to Bart was quite short. One evening in the spring of 1995, in a ride-share limo (at the time, cheaper than a one-passenger taxi) heading home to Downers Grove from Chicago's O'Hare International Airport, my fellow passenger and I did the small-talk about our jobs and such. He introduced himself as Bart Johnson.

I suppose when you're really famous, it must be frustrating to be recognized all the time. Perhaps when you're somewhat famous, it must be frustrating not to be recognized at all. (I know when you're not famous at all, being recognized can be quite embarrassing.) I sensed disappointment that I didn't recognize him and also that I didn't recognize the name.

I learned long ago that expressing interest in someone keeps you from being a bore so I asked him a few questions and heard about his latest trip. He was a scout for the White Sox at the time (1980-1997) and had been down south for a couple of days.

We were nearing the limits of my baseball small-talk. While my wife is a baseball nut, I am not: I had a summer job in high school (mid 1980's) at a radio station producing* the Astros Baseball broadcasts** but that was it. I enjoy the game but don't know much about it.

He explained that as a scout, he'd be given a seat behind home plate, up just enough and a little off to the side to see the pitcher in action. It was a courtesy that teams gave visiting scouts, largely to ensure that their scouts would also get the seats they needed. He'd been down south that week (Arizona comes to mind) and had caught a number of foul balls.

"Would you like one," he asked. "Sure," I replied as we arrived at his address.

We got out of the car in the last of the day's twilight and he went to retrieve his gear from the trunk. He unzipped a bag and produced a ball. Borrowing my Cross pen, he quickly signed it. "I didn't pitch it, but I caught it, so perhaps it'll be worth something someday."

I thanked him profusely as I got back in and he went up the walkway to his home.

Later in the car, I looked it over. I sensed that I had in my hands something important. I didn't know much about him; that would come later. He'd been a real, live, baseball player and that was enough. I got one of those plastic baseball boxes for it and I keep it on my bookshelf, next to the one my dad gave me from his high school days.

*"Producing" at the time was a fancy word indicating that I played the commercials and station IDs at the appropriate times.
**To this day, I enjoy listening to a radio broadcast of a game over watching on TV or even heading to a ball-park. I was warped at an early age.
[random note] Doing the Astros Baseball in the `80's did turn me into a Nolan Ryan fan. I followed him into college in the late `80's and witnessed many of his seven no-hitters.

Update 9/3/2010: Since we can't seem to keep the comments (and there have been many that didn't pass the filters) to Bart Johnson, the Sox or random baseball player meetings, I've closed the comments. Too bad.