Stan the (Gentle) Man Musial

In mid-January 2013, we were saddened by the news that Stan Musial, the perennial all-star slugger for the St. Louis Cardinals had passed away quietly at his home in Ladue, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis. The accolades for this Hall of Fame baseball player have been lavish in their praise, and richly deserved, but his death brought back the one personal encounter I had with Stan the Man, a long long time ago, in 1953.

In November of 1952 I was discharged from the Army, after a year in Korea. It was good to be home, and reunited with Jean. We had been married in June of 1951, with the expectation that I would be stationed in the United States until I'd finished my two years of service. Ah, but the Army has a way of doing the unexpected, so most of our marriage had been spent with me on an Asian vacation, a la Uncle Sam, with Jean teaching school back in Nebraska.

But after spending the Christmas holidays with our families in Nebraska, Jean and I decided that we would like to spend the winter in the deep South, until I was to resume school in Chicago in April. It turned out to be a very pleasant winter, skirting the Gulf of Mexico, from South Padre Island in Texas, to New Orleans, and finally to Florida's Gulf Coast, just in time for the Major League Baseball Spring Training season.

Jean and I were traveling in our little honeymoon cottage, a 27-foot house trailer, and had picked out a trailer village in Fort Myers, that looked "nice." It was a fortunate choice, because the high stone fence that circled the court just happened to be the fence that defined the outfield of the (old) Boston Red Sox Spring Training Field. And to make it even more inviting, the folks at the trailer village had placed ladders at convenient intervals that made it possible for the residents to sit on that fence and watch the Red Sox practice games played on that field.

The weather was perfect during the time we were in Fort Myers and as luck would have it, the Red Sox were in the midst of a home stand that brought all the teams that trained in that area to the Red Sox Park for a game.

I was not a really a Red Sox fan, but I did enjoy sitting there on the outfield fence and watching the games. I had hoped to get to see Ted Williams hit, but he was still on active duty with the Marine Air Wing in Korea and would not be back with the Red Sox until mid-season in 1953. But Dom DiMaggio, the Little Professor, was still with the Red Sox and he played in at least one of the games I saw. He was very personable and would josh with the fellows who were watching the game from the wall as he came out to take his position in the outfield.

But when the St. Louis Cardinals came to play the Red Sox, I felt we needed to be in the bleachers with the other paying fans. I had become very interested in following the St. Louis Cardinals, and particularly the career of Stan Musial, and really wanted to take in the entire flavor of that Major League game, even if it were just a Spring Training game.

The game was indeed interesting, and as I remember, Musial hit a home run, and made a couple of seemingly impossible catches, so the game was certainly worthwhile, but what has stayed with me for all these years is what happened after the game was over.

We were standing on the parking lot with a couple of hundred die-hard fans gathered in little clumps around the various players, between the visitors' Club House and the team bus, waiting to get autographs from the St. Louis players.

Jean and I were in the group, noticeably larger than the others, around Stan Musial. He seemed to be in a good mood and kidded and made small talk with the fans as he signed hats and various other articles of apparel. It was almost our turn when an older woman came running up to Musial. Just as she reached our group she tripped and fell right on her face, at the feet of Stan the Man. We were all startled.

"Geez, mother," Musial said, "Slow down. I'm not going anywhere." With that he reached down and helped the woman to her feet. She was embarrassed by her entrance, and tried to apologize. Musial took the whole incident in stride. He took the woman by the arm and walked with her to a little bench outside the Club House. When she assured him that she was OK, he gave her a little hug and came back to sign more autographs, making small talk and joshing with the people, as if nothing had happened.

The incident was a welcome departure from the boorish behavior of some superstars, which, unfortunately, we had come to expect.

For that day at least, I'm sure that if the woman, who had fallen, and that crowd, had had a vote, Musial would have been chosen the MVP for the season. I know I was impressed.

Musial went on to have many more memorable seasons with the Cardinals. He had broken into Major League baseball with the Cardinals in 1941, and played until 1963, all with just one Club. He left an enviable record -- he was named to the All-Star team a record 24 times. He compiled 3,630 hits, 1,815 in the Cardinals' home park, and 1,815 on the road. He won seven League Batting titles. He hit 415 homeruns, and is generally considered to be one of the top hitters of his day.

Musial was named the National League's Most Valuable Player three times, and the Cardinals won the World Series three times while he was playing with the Club. And to top off a great career, Musial was elected to Major League Baseball's Hall of Fame in 1969, on the first ballot, in the first year he was eligible for the honor.

Even after his playing days were over, Musial continued to be active with the Cardinal organization. As General Manager of the Cardinals, in 1967 he was the man in charge when the team won the World Series, over the Boston Red Sox, in seven games.

In the 1960s, Musial served as President Lyndon Johnson's Advisor on Physical Fitness, a program to promote physical fitness among the American Citizens.

Musial was also a very successful owner of a popular restaurant in St. Louis. The atmosphere was informal and the restaurant was a great place for former ball players (and tourists) to replay countless ballgames. Musial was a genial host, and enjoyed being a part of the nostalgia sessions. He was an accomplished harmonica player and frequently provided the accompaniment for group singing at his restaurant. As a harmonica player he made guest appearances on numerous TV shows in the late '60s and '70s, and produced at least one album of favorite songs.

Musial's last appearance at Busch Stadium, the Cardinals' home field came on Oct. 12, 2012, during game four of the National League Championship Series, between the Cardinals and the San Francisco Giants. Musial rode around the warning track in a golf cart. He stopped to greet, and wish luck to both Cardinal Manager, Mike Matheny and Giant Manager, Bruce Bochy, to thunderous roars from a sold out stadium, Stan Musial fans all.

Stan Musial amassed many records in his career, and accumulated heartfelt accolades from writers and baseball fans throughout the country. But you never hear about the time, in 1953, that Musial earned the title of "Mr. Nice Guy" at a spring training game with the Boston Red Sox. For those of us that were there, it was a memorable moment.

Source: Stan Musial biography, yourdictionary.com