No, I'm not THAT old...
this is an excerpt from
Reminsce Magazine that I get...
By Harry Melvin
as told to neighbor Dare Freeman Ford
Hendersonville, North Carolina
I’m in sixth grade, in 1932 Atlanta, Georgia, when my hero, Babe Ruth, comes to town.
On their way back to New York from Florida spring training, the New York Yankees are to play an exhibition game with the Atlanta Crackers. Each school gets one free pass to the game. Lucky me—I win at my school!
When the big day arrives, my mother gives me a dime for the streetcar fare to Ponce de Leon Park and back. I run to the trolley stop.
When I finally get to the ball field, Babe Ruth is sitting a few rows up in the stands, signing autographs, with kids hanging all over him. I go through the gate, find a scrap of paper and run over. My heart races, as I breathlessly thrust the paper in front of the “home-run king” to get his signature.
Then Babe Ruth says, “Well, guys, I’m going to have to play a ballgame in a few minutes, so you’d better get going.” Everybody scampers away so they can get front-row seats, but Babe reaches out and grabs me by the back of my belt.
“Whoa, fella,” he says. “Wait just a minute. Can you tell me where the concession stand is?”
I turn and look straight at the big man with the spindly legs. “Yes, sir, it’s right over there.”
He smiles. “Well, if I give you the money, will you run over there and buy me a couple of hot dogs and a Coke?”
“Yes, sir, I’d be happy to.”
He turns to the reporter who travels with the team and asks, “How about lending me a couple of bucks, pal? Thanks.”
Babe Ruth gives the $2 to me and says, “Two hot dogs and a Coke, please. Hurry if you can, kid. I’ve got a ballgame to play.”
“Yes, sir.” I run as fast as I can to the concession stand, get his food, and hurry back.
I start to give Babe Ruth his change, but he says, “You keep it, kid.”
“But it’s a whole dollar seventy-five!” I exclaim. “It only cost a quarter for everything.”
“That’s okay kid. Keep the change,” he says.
I thank him and turn to leave, but the Babe says, “Not so fast, kid. You’re in too big of a hurry. What’s your name?”
“Harry, sir. Harry Melvin,” I reply, to which he says, “Well, Harry, sit down ’til I finish eating, and we’ll play a little ball.”
Before long, I’m sitting on Babe Ruth’s shoulders as he runs to first base. I get to meet some of the other players from the famous “Murderers' Row,” guys like Lou Gehrig, “Lefty” Gomez, Tony Lazzeri and Bill Dickey.
As the Atlanta Crackers take the field, I decide to find a seat, so I head toward the stands. Babe Ruth stops me. “Harry, hang on a minute. Come over here. Harry, do you have a bat?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, go over there and get yourself one of mine,” the Babe says as he points to a row of bats. My eyes must have grown as big as golf balls.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Take any one you want.”
I look them all over and choose one. “Gee, thanks a lot, Mr. Ruth. Thanks!” I say with a big smile as I turn to leave.
Babe Ruth snatches me back by my belt, saying, “Whoa there, Harry. You’re in too big of a hurry. Let’s let the whole team autograph your bat.”
When I finally sit down in the bleachers, I’ve got Babe Ruth’s autograph, his bat signed by the whole team, and lots of money in my pocket.
After watching the first couple of innings, I leave the ballgame and head to my neighborhood corner store, McCrory’s, where I spend all of the money in my pocket. When I arrive home, I have a grocery bag full of treats.
My friends and I eat candy and play ball the rest of the day. Our “ball” is gravel wrapped in black tire tape. Our “bat” has always been a broom handle, but today we’re stepping into the street with something much more.
Eventually, my autographed bat was destroyed. Somebody told me that it would be worth $4 million today. I told my wife that if she ever wakes up in the middle of the night and catches a grown man crying, she’ll know why.
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Subject: The day I Met Babe Ruth 
Tue Jun 10, 2008 9:45 pm
