Meeting Ted Williams
- robertw
- May 14
- 2 min read
Recently there’s been a lot of FB chatter about Ted Williams for some reason. Here’s my contribution.
Every time I see a picture of my boyhood hero I remember the day, when I met him. My father used Rudy’s Sunoco on the US Rte 28 rotary in Massachussetts. It was the same place Ted went to for the vehicles used at his Lakeville, MA baseball camp. One Saturday Dad stopped in to pay his repair bill, leaving me in the car. He walked back accompanied by a man more than a foot taller than him and opened the door for me to get out.
“Bobby, I believe you know this man,” said Dad. “Shake hands with Mr. Williams.”
Eyes popping out of my head and my heart racing, I reached out. Ted smiled and took my
hand in his. His mit was so big mine disappeared within it. I’m sure he said something, but I
don’t remember a word. All I recall is that very big hand.
Recently, I wrote this with him in mind.
All Star
Where’s Ted Williams now, when we need him?
Splendid Splinter could even make a masterpiece
popping out to third with bases loaded,
a might swing by Teddy Ball Game
sends a small white sphere sailing straight to heaven
a stitched and muted sun on a slate grey day
into a tiny hole in the sky over Fenway
through which my world flowed.
The Kid would know just what to do
amidst this world’s confusion.
Flinging his thirty-eight-ounce Louisville Slugger
over the third baseman’s head into left
then spitting at a booing box seater.
He could walk calmly to the home team dugout,
drop a crisp new c-note on the water cooler
to pay the standard fine.
Thumper knew the drama of confidence.
A heavy hitter with a .406 average
The king in a million daydreams
he even did the wrong things right.
Robert W. Spencer