Being a young kid growing up in Central Pennsylvania there was not a lot in the way of sports during the 1950’s. So we made a few games up. One was with cows, and did not involve tipping. We were too small for that. Instead we would throw dirtballs at cows. I don’t think this hurt the cows, but it sure made them mad at us. So they would chase us, which led to our second sport. The sport of climbing trees, close ones, and quickly. In time both the cows and we got bored of this game.

So for the most part my attention turned to music. My parents got me an old cornet horn. In time I could play along with some of the songs on the radio. I found this to be more fun, and certainly less stupid then having a 600-pound angry cow chasing me. However, despite myself, a few sports celebrities did touch my life.

The first one was when I was around ten. My Dad took me to something at church. I just remember it was the first time I went there that a mass was not involved. Well that, and the guest speaker, was the Manager of the New York Yankees. I remember his name as I got a baseball he signed. The name is Ralph Houk whom a lot of people called "Majors". My Dad told me two things about Mr. Houk while he was in the pros. He caught for the Yankees from 1947 to 1954. At that point some young up and coming catcher named Yogi Berra replaced him. So Houk went back to the minors, and occasionally filled in for Berra when needed.

The second thing I learned from Dad that in 1961 he became the Yankees Manager. This was around the time when I saw him. He spoke of how difficult it was to step in and fill the shoes of Casey Stengel, whom he replaced. After that night I tried to keep track of Ralph Houk. Afterall I had a baseball he signed. He managed the Yankees from 1961 – 1963 and again 1966 – 1973. In-between he worked as a Yankee Vice President and General Manager. From 1974 – 1978 he managed the Tigers and from 1981 – 1984 the Red Sox. I thought he had retired but in 1986 at the age of 67 he became the Vice President of the Twins. In 1987 the Twins became the World Champions.

Interestingly as a player favorite he was never fired from any position he ever held. Not an easy thing to do in the sports business.

I did find the evening enjoyable, despite no free food being around, and Dad tried to further my sports education. He was not fond of cows chasing me, and I guess the horn playing was getting on his nerves. So at certain times of the year he would drive two of my younger siblings and me to Hershey, Pa. It was not for chocolate. This was the early 1960’s and Hershey was home to the Philadelphia Eagles pre season camp. So I got to watch a bunch of adults in football gear run around.

One guy in particular still remains in my memory. During breaks he would always come over and talk with Dad. He also joked with us kids. Dad would call him Tommy we called him Mr. MacDonald. It was around this time, 1961, that he led the NFL in reception yardage and touchdowns. While I didn’t get a ball from him with his name on it I remember he was a nice guy.

My Dad would have been happy for him in 1998 when he made the NFL Hall Of Fame. Along the way to the Hall he played wide receiver for the Eagles, Cowboys, Rams, Falcons and Browns. He made six pro bowls, and has the distinction of being the last pro football player to wear a faceguard on his helmet. He said it blocked his vision. I mostly just remember him being a nice football player in Hershey.

It was around this time that more brothers and sisters came into the house, and a Little League got started in the area I lived. It seems the farmer got tired of cows and land so other use was made of the ground. Because of the above there were no more outings of a sports sort for me. That was fine as I was actually getting the hang of this horn-playing thing. To the point nobody in the house made as many faces when I practiced.

I didn’t rub elbows with another celebrity till much later. At that point of time I was a railroad cop in Baltimore with my own kids coming into the world. It was 1978 and I went to a party showing thanks for cops. The guy who owned the joint hosted it, an old funny man named Art Donovan.

Before shaking hands somebody had told me he once played football for the Baltimore Colts. What I didn’t know then was that he was the first Colt to enter the Hall of Fame, and have his number (#70) retired in the organization. I could tell by looking at him he was a gentle giant of his business. Which was being an owner/manager of a country club. We talked mostly about me being born in Queens, he the Bronx. A one way conversation as I was only two when I left the New York City area. After our conversation he moved on in his way, just like the lineman he was, anywhere he wanted to go. It was no longer for sacks, just grins. The big man found them everywhere he went.

Sports took a big sideline at that point for me. The business of raising a family, staying employed, and playing music to relax took up most of my time. The next, and last guy, in sports I shook hands with came from my own backyard. We met in a different arena by little choice. It turns out we were both relocated. It was in New Jersey I met him. At a school function called family night at my oldest sons’ Middle School.

It was a special night. We would dine on pasta with salad on Styrofoam plates. Our children would serve us the meal prepared by the local fire chief, and the schools marching band would play. Oh yes, a guest celebrity from the Philadelphia Eagles would be there to give a speech.

According to the handouts at the meal the speaker spent 14 years in the NFL. Twelve of them with the New York Jets and two years with the Philadelphia Eagles. This year was his swan song. NFL football playing was over for our guest speaker; his role was now representing the Eagles. At least to the end of his football contract. Along the way this guy caught a total of 438 catches and saw his way into two pro bowls. His name is Mickey Schuler.

Somehow his name rang a bell.

As he talked, and he was good, he kept saying things that sounded familiar to me. Some of those things were being from a county in Pennsylvania that had no traffic lights anywhere in it. How things were a lot different in where he was born and where he found himself now. It was just a whole new, and great area, but different. How life took him places he didn’t expect, and how the good of that was always better then the bad.

He spoke to the kids, and to the adults. Not in an up or down way of reaching age levels, just speaking, in an honest way. In a quiet way he had all of us hanging on his every word. He answered all questions. He had no idea what his future held. He said he had four kids, and never got to any of their school functions because of his career. He mentioned he was fortunate enough to have enough money to not work for a year. After that his wife would make sure he found some sort of job. At the end he sat down and signed every program, napkin, and paper plate offered. He made no hurry to move. I finally got to him, shook his hand, and asked if he was from Perry County, Pennsylvania. He was, and we talked for a while.

We both grew up in the same part of the world. We did share a lot in common like fishing, trapping, hunting, etc. Things went fine till I asked if he ever threw dirt balls at cows. He then gave me a strange look, and started shaking the persons hand behind me.

After that I went back to my non-sports and cows life. Years later I found myself with my friend Bill Shefski, and his friend that I never met, Herb Adderley in a project called Ageless Sports. We had a great run with it, and communication was done over the Internet for the most part. That is why Jerry, Chef Mike, and I ask for your help. Send any thoughts, suggestions, sport stories, recipes etc over this medium.

Please don’t get me wrong. I don’t think cows are dumb. Nobody ever wrote about humans jumping over the moon. In my case it was the cow that did the chasing. I was the one left up the tree.

I hope you write in with your thoughts, so I can get out of the tree.

Mike