In a gravelly voice worn rough by a life fully lived, he said in the most stereotypical of New York accents, "My doctor, he said that never again a cigar should touch my lips. On that day, he said, I should die." He bent his head a little to the left and finished, saying, "Kid, it ain't touching my lips."

That was his last spring training.

One morning, I had just gotten out of my car, and was heading toward the right-field fence when I saw Bobby Cox, then the Braves general manager, pull up next to me. "Hiya Bobby!" I shouted. He paused and looked at me sternly for a moment, then broke into a toothy smile and waved as he walked towards the player’s entrance, never breaking his stride.

He was five years away from winning his first championship with the Braves.

Another day found Dale Murphy surrounded by a throng of star-struck kids in the parking lot. He signed and signed and signed until they all left with their small pieces of baseball history. He looked up at me and smiled, looking for something to sign. He cocked his head and took a second look and said, "Don't I know you?"

Dale Murphy and I attended the same church. He had seen me there.

Once.

And he remembered. He asked me how my daughter was doing. He remembered she was in a wheel chair. He asked if he could help give her a blessing. Later that day, He hit a 470-foot home run off of Tippy Martinez of the Orioles. I saw him at church that Sunday.

"Aw, he just got it up a bit" was all Murph would say.

I visited Ft. Lauderdale and watched the Royals take on the Yankees. I saw George in the owner's box. I screamed hello.

He didn't hear me. I didn't care.

Charley Leibrandt was warming up for Kansas City in the sixth inning. At that time, the bullpen was along the left field fence next to the stands. The pitcher's rubber was three feet from the fence. As I leaned against the chain-link, I could have reached out and fingered the seams of the patch on his uniform arm.

He pretended I wasn't there.

I pretended I was him.

He gave up three runs that inning. I didn't give up any.

I saw the Reds in Plant City, and the Twins in Orlando. I took in many Expos games in West Palm as well. Watching the games was wonderful, but watching the practices was even better.

I saw a tall 25-year-old pitch three solid innings against the Orioles. He struck out three and walked one, giving up only a run scoring double.

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