How my 3 year old beat the New York Yankees
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Opening Day, those two words alone make you feel like a kid heading home to your own birthday party!
Baseball is a metaphor for life with so many parallels.
It has been my distinct pleasure to be one of Jimmy Frantze’s good friends for decades. The famed Kansas City restaurateur and past owner of the Plaza’s JJ’s loves life and lives it to the fullest.
So when I received a 1986 formal invitation to join him to dine and celebrate Opening Day, that didn’t surprise me but the location did ... The “K” Lot “M.” What was Jimmy up to now?
Along with yours truly, the other usual Opening Day suspects gathered: Randy Bell, Craig Patrick and Michael Corbin. It was a breezy 45 degree afternoon as we headed to parking lot "M" dressed in layers. It’s the crème del la crème lot, located just between the Royals and Chiefs stadiums.
We walked up and there it was, a formal table setting for 12 with linen, silver, and crystal. A chef, waiter and Jimmy -- all in proper attire grinning from ear to ear -- greeted us as we joined the other lucky few. Various French wines were poured, matching the courses to the delight of my unsophisticated palate. JJ's trademark Paco Shrimp with caviar served as the starter.
Salads did not make the table, with a gust of wind the greens would have ended up in Lot “J”.
Jimmy carved and served Chateaubriand drizzled with warm bearnaise. Matt added his famed scalloped potatoes, then Foie gras and asparagus with hollandaise … dinner was served. The prerequisite opening day hot dog would have to wait.
People started noticing as our friend John, with white linen on his arm, served us. The closest tailgaters to us were grilling brats and popping beers, while on the other side two boys threw a football.
The last course was bananas foster flambé, it turned out to be the best wind-extinguished dessert I’d ever had.
Walking into the stadium I had a feeling of euphoria, not only from what Jimmy had done, but the American flag was being unfurled, covering the outfield. Some country star passionately sang the national anthem and the first B-1 Bomber I had ever seen flew over the stadium as fans cheered with patriotic pride.
A tingle went down my spine. I tried to take it all in, life was good. It was my favorite day of the year spent with great friends and now baseball!
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George Hayward had the best seats in the house. His two season tickets were in the front row next to the on-deck circle. No nets, perfect view into the Royals dugout, you were as close as anyone to the field. It added another element in watching the game, sound.
You could hear the banter between catcher and ump. Grunts, moans, cheers and jeers from the dugout, but what I liked the most was listening to the sound of the pitch ... swoosh, pop! It made you realize just how fast those pitches were coming in and why so few could hit them.
I bought George’s tickets and sat down there maybe five times in my life, but one magical game stands out.
If they went, True and Gloria Davis always took their 7-year-old daughter Ginny, she loved baseball. After a couple of innings we would swap seats so each got to sit on the front row. In the 4th inning, Ginny and I headed down.
Wow, it’s something, you are so close it’s almost like you’re butting in.
George Brett was at bat, with Bo Jackson just 10 feet away from us in the on-deck circle. Suddenly an errant sinker hit Brett in the back of his heel.
The ball two-hopped to Bo. I immediately yelled Bo, Bo, Bo! He turned and flipped me the ball! I stood up quickly, spun around to the crowd raising both arms in the air with ball in hand celebrating … there was silence. Gazing down at Ginny’s big brown eyes looking back at me, without hesitation I handed her the ball. She stood up, waved to her parents and the now cheering crowd, I smiled and sunk into my seat.
Numb, just staring into space, the devil Bob Uecker was on my right shoulder.
“You idiot, from Brett to Bo to you, that’s a ball and great story you’d have forever, I can’t believe you're that stupid to give it up.”
Dan Quisenberry on the other shoulder chimed in ... “Bob, you did the right thing, she will remember this game the rest of her life. If you hadn’t given it up, it would be like you kept it from her, what you did is baseball etiquette, thank you!”
As I mulled over my decision, I was the only one seated in the stadium. Bo had just tripled off the center field wall scoring Brett from first. The fans roared, I stood up and joined in.
Ginny Davis still has the ball and I sleep well at night.
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In line at Starbucks on the Plaza in KC with my twin 3-year-old daughters, you have to pay attention. I picked up one from a display so she would quit clanking the glasses while leaving the other sister to clank on. Then I saw him.
Three people in front of me was Derek Jeter, the Yankee Captain on his farewell tour getting ready to retire. My kids know how I feel about the Bronx Bombers.
“See that guy, I said, he’s a Yankee!” You could see her little mind working hard trying to figure out what that meant. I put her down to order when out of the corner of my eye, she walked up to Derek -- now waiting for his coffee -- and blasted him in the groin with both hands.
“Are you a Yankee?”
He was stunned but smiling as I quickly grabbed her. The other twin wandered over to see what all the commotion was about. Jeter playfully cupped his hands, defending himself as she approached.
We both laughed ... “You need a couple of these don’t you think Derek?!”
He could not have been nicer. I congratulated him on his career and thanked him for the style in which he played.
Jeter tapped both girls on their head, shook my hand, grabbed his coffee and walked off gingerly.
Later that day, the Royals beat the Yankees 2-1. Jeter went 0-4, leaving several runners in scoring position. Royals ace James Shields pitched a gem for the win, with an earlier assist from Alexandria Ford.
Now let’s Play Ball
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You can find more of Bob’s work on his website bobfordshistory.com with videos on YouTube and TikTok.
