I Should Ask You For Your Autograph…….But I Don’t Know Who You Are!

I Should Ask You For Your Autograph…….But I Don’t Know Who You Are!

Lynne returned home on Monday.  While waiting to board Flight CO0783 in Boston, she noticed a gentleman seated in a wheelchair beside the gate entrance.  As she walked past when her row was called, she overheard an attendant telling him that they would board him last.  His left leg was in a cast and would extend into the aisle when he was seated on the plane.

She sat by the window in seat 3F, he by the isle in 3E.  She got the last chicken salad lunch; he was relegated to roast beef.  He didn’t seem too happy about it either.  “Just as well,” Lynne thought, “Maybe I can get some sleep!”  My wife is like a magnet – people seem drawn to her – and once there they talk.  And they talk.  Lynne knows nothing about causing a conversation to end.  It’s always the other person’s responsibility to end it.  On the phone, every single other person has no trouble mouthing, “Well, I have to go now, we’ll talk later…goodbye!”  Lynne can’t do that – she feels guilty; she just can’t cut-off the other person.

So, she usually becomes a “captive ear” on flights.  But this time, it seemed as though her seatmate was too busy with his papers, and writing his reports.  He was doing a lot of writing and Lynne was noticing his handwriting and how distinguished, yet beautiful it was.  She could just about make out the words across the top of one page, “Advanced sc…t..n..g .of  Pitcher’s Weakn.sse.” or something.

He got up to stretch his leg and engaged the flight attendants in conversation.  Lynne casually looked a bit more closely at the papers left on his seat reading, “Advanced Scouting of Pitcher’s Weaknesses.”  She thought “baseball”, but who was this guy?  Since she’d helped the man put his briefcase under the seat in front of him, she felt it would be all right if she looked a bit more closely at its name tag.  “Deacon Jones” was the name she read.  “Deacon Jones……Deacon Jones…” – a dull light was coming on in the back of her brain.  “Deacon Jones…….”

Grover “Deacon” Jones returned to his seat.  As he picked up his papers and prepared to continue his work, Lynne said to him, “I know I should be asking for your autograph, but I don’t know who you are!”

In 1956, Grover “Deacon” Jones, playing for the MidWest League’s Dubuque Packers, he was not only the year’s MLP, but hit .409, had 26 HRs, and 120 RBIs.

He laughed and ice was broken.  He talked, she listened.  He showed her his reports for Red Sox pitchers and explained the what’s and why’s of his work.  Four hours later beside baggage carousel #7, I shook hands with Grover “Deacon” Jones.  He said to me, “You have some kind of woman here!”  I agreed and thanked him for taking care of my better half during the flight.