Tom LaSorda: I grew up inNorristown,PA, which is just outside ofPhiladelphia. I’ll never forget going toShibeParkfor the first time to watch an actual Major League game. I found out that the nuns were going to take the local crossing guards to see a Phillies game so I became a crossing guard.
I stood out in the cold snow, sleet and hail to help kids cross the street. Finally we go to the game and we saw the Phillies play the New York Giants. The nuns took five of us. I bought a program for 10c. Can you imagine a program costing only ten cents?
I also made up a book for autographs. In the oldShibeParkthere was a twenty foot stretch where the visiting team players would have to walk with the fans to get back to the clubhouse. I asked one player for his autograph and he pushed me out of the way.
I was heartbroken. Major Leaguers were my heroes.
I looked up his number in the program and read his name: Buster Maynard.
Years later I was pitching in Sally League inSouth Carolinaand the PA announcer said the next batter’s name: Buster Maynard.
That’s the rat who pushed me out of the way and wouldn’t give me an autograph!
He stepped into the box and with the first pitch I dumped him. He got up, brushed himself off and got back in the box. I dumped him again. He yelled at me to stop throwing at him, and with the third pitch he went down again, but this time when he got up he came charging out after me.
I cleaned his plow in the free-for-all.
After the game was over someone came to our clubhouse asking for Tom Lasorda. I wanted to know who it was and the person identified himself as Buster Maynard. I told him that I cleaned his plow on the field and that I’d do it again. But he didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to know why I was throwing at him.
I told him the story, and he couldn’t believe it. When I became the manager of the Dodgers I would tell my players the same story about old Buster with the moral being that if a kid asks for your autograph you better sign it because he may grow up and come back to get you.
