Ever wonder what’s it like to be a pastor’s kid?
You grow up sensing that you’re very different from your peers.
You attend Sunday School, Sunday morning worship, the Sunday evening service, and midweek prayer meeting every single week for years.
You aren’t allowed to play in front of your house on Sunday afternoons (and can only play in the backyard quietly).
You’re the only kid you know who doesn’t go to the movies (except for the pastor’s kids two houses down who can’t even watch Shirley Temple movies on television).
You grow up without a color TV – and only obtain one after you get married.
And you don’t play cards, dance, or swear … and learn that smoking and drinking are the top sins that God hates.
While you love your parents and your church, you constantly feel like you don’t belong … and you don’t know anybody famous who is like you.
Until a Yankee named Bobby Richardson came along.
Bobby Richardson was the second baseman for the New York Yankees from 1955-1966. As a kid, I learned he was also a Christian, just like me. I first heard his name while collecting baseball cards.
When I was six years old, my parents were visiting friends in Orange, California. Game 3 of the 1960 World Series was on TV. I was drawn to baseball even then.
Bobby Richardson came up and hit a grand slam home run down the left field line. While I was rooting for the Pirates (I have never rooted for the Yankees), I had to admire the little guy with the big bat. He was named the Most Valuable Player for the Series even though the Yankees lost (thank you, Bill Mazeroski) – the only player ever named MVP for a losing team.
Richardson then played in the World Series for the next four years – winning in 1961 and 1962 – and catching the final out in the seventh game of the ’62 Series off the bat of the Giants’ Willie McCovey.
The second baseman became an All-Star and was known for his fielding prowess and his skill in not striking out. He only struck out three times in a game once in his whole career – and Sandy Koufax accomplished that feat in the 1963 World Series.
Richardson retired at age 30, the same age as Koufax when he retired.
In 1965, my parents bought me Richardson’s book The Bobby Richardson Story at the Inspiration House at Knott’s Berry Farm. (They had a Christian bookstore there at the time!)
Richardson infused courage into me when he said, “If you take a stand early, people respect you.”
And his Yankee teammates all did.
Several months ago, my friend Russ told me that Bobby Richardson was going to be speaking at a prayer breakfast in Prescott on January 31. Did I want to go? Unsure of my schedule, I finally said yes – and I’m so glad I did.
Richardson’s stories were great.
He roomed with Tony Kubek (later a famous broadcaster), once singing hymns with him into the night.
His batting average was .299 going into his last game in 1959, and he needed one hit to hit .300 (the mark of a really good hitter). The pitcher, catcher, and third baseman all sent him word they would help him get that last hit … but he lined a single to right without their help and ended the season at .301.
He told us the inside story of Phil Linz and the famous harmonica incident on the Yankee bus in 1964. Loved it!
But best of all, he told us about the impact that he had on Mickey Mantle’s life – especially during his last days.
A few days before Mantle’s death in 1995, Bobby Richardson and his wife visited The Mick in the hospital. Through a series of events, Mantle received Jesus and quoted John 3:16 to Richardson as evidence of his new faith.
Mickey Mantle also asked Bobby Richardson to conduct his funeral service.
After the prayer breakfast was over, people wanted to meet the speaker and get his autograph.
Richardson wisely set up a table in the lobby. There was no charge for his signature. My friend Russ, who invited me, asked Richardson to sign a copy of his book …
… along with a baseball card I brought along for the occasion.
When it was my turn, I just wanted a photo with Bobby. Afterwards, I told him how much he meant to me as a kid because he was a Christian … and very few players acknowledged their faith publicly back then.
He told me that things had changed so much that when the Yankees won the pennant in the late 1990s, 18 of the 25 players were believers. (Makes it harder to hate the Yankees!)
When I told him that I’d seen his grand slam on TV in the 1960 Series, Richardson held out his hand and shook mine. He told me that he was supposed to bunt in that situation. After he hit the homer, manager Casey Stengel told him in the dugout, “Nice bunt!”
Richardson played a big role in Baseball Chapel, so I asked him about Gary Carter, the believer and Hall of Fame catcher who is battling multiple brain tumors. (Carter played a leadership role in Baseball Chapel years ago). Richardson said he wasn’t doing too well and needed our prayers.
I’ve met players like Ted Williams, Joe DiMaggio, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, Hank Aaron, Roberto Clemente, Sandy Koufax, and Nolan Ryan. I’ve had conversations with guys like Duke Snider, Don Sutton, and Richie Allen, and had the privilege of sitting next to Alvin Dark at a banquet years ago.
But I’ve never met a kinder ex-player than Bobby Richardson. He was everything I hoped he’d be and more.
Thank you, Bobby, for giving this kid a Christian role model decades before Tim Tebow came along.
Wow! What an awesome experience! What great memories! I’d love to hear sometime about meeting Jackie Robinson.
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When I say “meet,” I don’t mean talking to them for a few minutes. I have done that with a few players. I spent 20 minutes one time talking with Merv Rettenmund outside the batting practice machines in spring training. I had lunch with Pete Falcone when he was playing with the Braves. And I drove Davey Lopes to the All-Star Game practice in 1978 in San Diego. So for me, “meeting” means that I got their autograph in person. In the case of Jackie Robinson, I “met” him at the Grand Hotel in Anaheim for an Old-Timers Game around 1970, a couple years before his death. I still have the 1954 Topps card he signed for me on that occasion. He was a gracious man. While I knew his impact on baseball, I didn’t really understand his impact on our culture until years later. By the way, whenever I wrote to Jackie Robinson (he lives in Stamford, CT), he would always graciously sign whatever I sent him. I only have 6 signatures of him now, but I used to have many more. Thanks for asking!
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