1963 1991 1998
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Remembering Sammy 1963-1998 free porn video
Recently, I learned that Sammy, whom I had coached in baseball back when he was a boy of 14, had died in 1998 of AIDS. He apparently contracted HIV when he and his wife were having problems and had separated for a while. Thankfully, neither she nor his children became infected. Following is one of the many Sammy stories that I tell, but the one that always comes to mind first whenever I think of him.
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In 1977, I coached a baseball team of 13, 14, and 15 year olds. One of the leaders on the team was a 14 year old named Sammy. Sammy was an exceptional athlete with a tremendous, positive attitude. He was a good looking kid, slender with above average height, built like a basketball player. In fact, he was a very good basketball player. He probably could have been good at any sport but he chose to limit himself to basketball and baseball.
Sammy was the best base stealer I ever coached and I coached a few. Over a twenty year period, I probably coached 500 or more baseball players of varied age and skill levels. I managed a team of Class A – Under 30 adults, did a two year stint as a high school coach and coached youth league kids ranging in age from 10 to 16 years.
One kid I coached became a punt return specialist for the Oakland Raiders. He was timed by the Raiders running the forty yard dash in 4.30 seconds which was world class speed in those days. I coached him when he was 15 and he was fast even then. He was a good base stealer but Sammy, at only 14, was better.
Sammy had a terrific natural instinct for getting a jump on the pitcher and had perhaps the best three step acceleration of any kid I have ever seen. Lots of boys could outrun him in a fifty or a hundred yard race, but I doubt there were many boys his age, anywhere, who could beat him in a ninety foot base line sprint.
When Sammy got on base, which was often, we knew that he could almost always steal second, frequently third and sometimes even home. In fact, that year we put in four steal home plays just for Sammy.
He was normally a rather quiet, unassuming kid but occasionally he would become upset with one of his teammates and he wasn’t shy about making his feelings known. He would shout that player’s name twice to get his attention, once loudly followed a second time more softly, then make his point speaking in a rhythm emphasizing every third or fourth word as in, ‘BILLY, Billy! Coach done TOLD you to quit FLAGGIN’ at the BALL. You gonna BOOT every ball HIT to you.’ It was very effective.
Also on that team was 13 year old Ellis who had never before played any organized sports. Ellis was about 6’-3” and 195 pounds of solid muscle. He was truly a child in a man’s body. He had no idea how big and strong he was. The first day of practice, we learned that he could probably throw the ball 90 mph but hadn’t a clue as to where it was going. We also learned that he couldn’t hit a lick. Before the season was over, Ellis got to where he could throw the ball straight and we even let him pitch on a couple of occasions, but he never learned to hit. Ellis literally couldn’t hit his IQ.
At the end of the season, our league held a double elimination tournament with the first and second place teams receiving trophies.
In the tournament, we lost a game early, but fought our way back up through the loser’s bracket to the semifinal game. The winner of that game would advance to play for the championship.
In the bottom of the last inning, we were behind one run. We had gotten a man to second base but we had two outs and it was Ellis’ turn to bat. We couldn’t substitute for him.
Our best hitters followed Ellis in the line up and our opponents had run out of pitching. We were confident that if Ellis got on base, we would win the game, advance to the finals, be guaranteed at least a second place finish and each earn a much coveted trophy. If Ellis made an out, our season would end.
As Ellis came to the plate, all of the coaches and some of the players were yelling instructions, reminding him of all the things he had been taught throughout the season. He was reminded how to grip the bat, keep the proper arm, leg, and bat angles, plant his set foot, take a short stride, keep his front toe parallel with the plate, hit off a solid front, extend his arms, snap his wrist, roll his top hand under, try to hit the ball back up the middle, keep his eye on the ball, etc., etc., etc.
The first pitch was right down the middle but Ellis just stood there frozen. Everyone yelled more instructions. The second pitch floated in and it too was waist high right over the middle of the plate. Again, Ellis didn’t move. That was strike two and our hopes of playing for the championship were almost gone.
Suddenly, Sammy screamed, ‘TIME OUT! TIME OUT!’
Although the umpire wasn’t supposed to grant time out to a bench player, he was so startled that he instinctively raised his hands and called, ‘TIME’. Sammy ran to the back stop and began yelling.
Almost everyone in the ball park became quiet. Some were simply stunned and wanted to hear what Sammy was saying while others probably even thought that he was going to argue with the umpire, getting himself ejected. Sammy, however, was giving Ellis advice. It was simple advice and it was good advice. Still, isolated laughs erupted here and there from people who obviously didn’t understand the situation.
Our coaches seemed to suddenly realize how futile it had been to yell instructions to a disconcerted, frightened kid like Ellis, especially in a pressure situation and joined a few fans in applauding Sammy’s effort.
The next pitch, Ellis pulled his head out, stepped out a little with his front foot, moved his rear set foot, raised his front shoulder, tucked his back elbow, dropped his back shoulder, drug the bat through the strike zone and swung a little late. In other words, he made a terrible swing. But he did make contact and, because of his strength, slapped the ball over the second baseman’s head for a single, driving in the tying run and enabling us to go on to win the game.
Many times over the years, especially when things weren’t going well and I was tempted to quit trying, I have thought back to that warm July night in 1977 and, in my mind, heard 14 year old Sammy shouting advice to his teammate and to all who would listen.
‘ELLIS, Ellis! You CAN’T hit the BALL if you DON’T swing the BAT!’
You can’t hit the ball if you don’t swing the bat.
Damn straight, Sammy. Damn straight, buddy.
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