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I’m not Ted Williams.
However, I could see the spinning red seams of the frayed baseball used in batting practice spinning towards me in slow motion. Each strand turns to the first row of “blue” seats on the lower floors of Cincinnati’s old Riverfront Stadium.
Indeed, the ball didn’t come to me at the age of nine with the same clip as the 96 mph fastball that Williams might have faced from Cleveland Indian Bob Feller. It wasn’t soaked like a slider from the palm of Whitey Ford in the New York Yankees. The “Splendid Splinter” was known for its sharp eyesight that could capture the rotation of the ball approaching the plate.
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There’s a reason Williams was the last batter to break .400 in the season: .406 in 1941.
However, this ball was not a fastball dealt from the pitcher’s mound.
From the field-level Astro Turf to the seats in the first row, this was a sly, ugly, unruly toss. To be precise, the stand is cut at an acute angle and runs parallel to the correct field line.
And the secret fling didn’t even come from Major League Baseball Harler.
It came from the Houston Astros longtime (and legendary) bullpen catcher Joseph “Stretch” Suva.
That day was September 12, 1978. The Reds continued to beat the Astros 4-3 that night. This game is Astros pitcher Mark Lemongello (big Name) The first home the home team ran to the right fielder “Red Seat” – the huge upper deck of Riverfront Stadium.
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But for nine-year-old baseball fans, the Reds’ victory and Summers’ astounding Jack were retrofits.
Foul balls, home runs and major league baseball have never been near me at Riverfront Stadium. Still, here I leaned against the rails with my best friend Jamie and stole the ball to Suva.
I didn’t even know how to say his name. However, “SUBA” is adorned on the back of Astros’ radical orange, red, and blue “Tequila Sunrise” uniforms, with numbers on the legs of the right pants.
Suva did not participate in the program. I had never heard of him. But it was September. I suspected he was a late-season call from Astros’ AAA affiliate in Charleston.
They were fined the big leaguers to throw the ball at the stand. Such a breach probably didn’t hurt the salaries of stars like Pete Rose of the Reds and Bob Watson of the Astros. But it was probably another calculation for a bullpen catcher to cough a ball on children with several badges.
And suddenly, at just the right time, when apparently the “batting practice ball police” wasn’t watching, Suva flipped the ball upwards towards the sound of our voice.
Suva has never glimpsed our way. He never admitted us. When Enos Kabel, Bruce Bochy and Terry Poole made a cut in the batting cage, he stared at the plate and the catcher’s mitt was folded around his waist.
All the balls looked like Jamie’s. Jamie was taller than me and was in a good position to catch. He remembers Jamie pushing the base of his palm together, stretching his fingers and waiting for him to grab it.
But surely I didn’t mean to allow Jamie to put the ball on top of me.
I snapped my right arm in front of Jamie’s outstretched hand and hooked the ball just above the railing of the dark Riverfront Stadium. I pulled it to my chest like a soccer goalkeeper.
I had a major league ball.
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The father who took us to the game was a person who was particular about manners. He confirmed that I was grateful to Mr. Suva and called him “Mr. Suva”. As the batter practice continued, Suva nodded her head and made a gesture.
But we weren’t over.
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But we secured the Holy Trinity that night. Baseball effector from batting practice and games. A trigger suitable for the nearby River Downs.
During the game, left-handed Astros Jose Cruz came to the plate. Cruz hit .315 that season. As the pitch approached the plate, Cruz lifted his left foot and unwound the bat with the cobra’s ferocious attack on the mongoose. Cruz fired a shot at his right field line. He stroked the ball at such a speed, and its swoosh cut through the moist September air and headed for the foul territory.
My dad was a good ball player in his time. He was still playing in more than 40 leagues at that time. He brought with him the gloves of Mac Gregor brand Lee May’s first baseman to the game. The word “Big Dipper” was sewn into the glove pocket. But that heavenly Monica did not do the justice of this glove. This was like a “black hole”. What was in the gloves never escaped.
A man walked down the aisle behind us and threw a tray of bratwurst, a popcorn jar, and two Hudepohl beers. Cruz’s frozen rope was heading directly at this man, and he was roaming the aisle.
However, Dad flashed the Big Dipper and backhanded Cruz’s violent line drive.
He probably saved the man’s life.
And Hudepohls.
A lazy pop fly came in our direction later in the game. It was wandering around the seat like a pinball before rolling down the aisle towards us. We also scooped it up.
3 fans. 3 balls.
The boy, Jamie, and I have a story to speak in Mrs. Turner’s fourth grade class the next morning. We have been fans for only a few years. But no one knew who won the ball in the game. Not to mention the three.
The “stretch” Suva was neither Joe Morgan nor Johnny Bench, nor one of the gears of the Big Red Machine. However, he turned out to be a legendary figure in Astros folklore. Suva worked as a bullpen catcher in Houston for an astonishing 36 years.
Just before the batting practice was over, I yelled again at Suba. I asked if he would sign the ball. I don’t think anyone was looking at that point. I gave Suva a black ink pen and he signed it. He wasn’t on the program, so I thought he wrote his name as “Steve” Suva. For years, my dad and I found Suva on the Reds television broadcast from Houston and warmed the Astros pitcher with a bullpen.
“We would say there is a’Steve’Suva,” he didn’t realize he signed his name as “Stretch.” We couldn’t understand his penmanship.
It took years to understand Suva’s real name.
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This has only been added to our “Three Ball Nights” lore.