When Tommy Lasorda was 12 or 13 years old, Lasorda went to his first big-league baseball game at Shibe Park. The game ended, the Giants players came clattering by, and Tom extended his scorecard to the first hero to come in out of the sunshine.
"Can I have your autograph, please, mister?" Outta my way, kid,” the Giant said, brushing past the boy.
"I couldn’t believe it!! I noticed the number on his back. Later on, I looked at my program & got his name. It was Buster Maynard, who was an outfielder with the Giants then. I never forgot it."
Seven years later, Lasorda was a star pitcher with the Dodger farm team in Greenville, North Carolina, facing the Augusta Yankees. The park loudspeaker made the introduction: "Now coming up to bat for the Yankees, Buster May-narrd, right field!”
LaSorda was transfixed. "I looked in and it was the same man!" The first pitch to Maynard nearly removed the button from the top of his cap. The second, behind his knees, inspired a beautiful sudden entrechat. The third, under the Adam’s apple, confirmed the message.
Maynard threw away his bat and charged the mound like a fighting bull entering the plaza in Seville. The squads spilled out onto the field & separated the two men.
After the game in the clubhouse, Lasorda had a visitor, it’s Buster Maynard.
“Listen, kid, have I even met you before?”
“No,” said Lasorda.
“Did I ever do anything to you?” asked a still perplexed Maynard.
“No, not really.”
“Then why were you trying to take my head off out there?”
“You wouldn’t give me your autograph!”
"Always give an autograph when somebody asks you. You never can tell. In baseball anything can happen"
