Since the publishing world is abuzz today about the "shameful" new Mickey Mantle Novel, I thought it an appropriate time to haul out my own story about The Mick and his womanizing ways.First, I should mention that Mantle was my hero when I was a kid playing Little League. I mean, I played centerfield and I wore number 7. I couldn't switch hit and my knees didn't give out at an early age, but otherwise, yeah, I modeled myself after The Mick.
But enough about me. This story is about my wife, Debbie, and her sister, Robin. In 1974, when they were 18 and 17 respectively, they happened to be sitting in Shay's, a bar/pool hall near downtown Fort Myers (yes, fake i.d.'s were involved.) It was March, spring training season in Fort Myers. The Twins were in camp and a procession of baseball fans and former players regularly passed through town. The waitress was soon bringing Debbie and Robin a round of free drinks.
"From the two men at the bar," she said, nodding to a couple of guys who looked to be in their 40s or 50s.
Debbie and her sister were somewhat creeped out by the fact that a couple of "old guys" wanted to buy them drinks. But they were broke. And a free drink is a free drink.
As they got ready to leave, Debbie and Robin, being the polite young ladies that they were (and still are), stopped at the bar and thanked the men for their kindness. Whereupon the two men began making all the smooth, suave moves you would expect of middle-aged men trying to pick up teenage girls in a bar. Debbie and Robin wanted no part of it. Whereupon one of the guys jerked a thumb at his buddy and said: "Do you know who this is? It's Mickey Mantle."
And whereupon my lovely bride-to-be, no great follower of baseball, said: "Yeah, right. Mickey Mantle is dead."
As Debbie remembers it now "both of them just kinda shut up then and left us alone."
When they got home, Debbie and Robin told their father about the incident. He asked them what the guy looked like. They told him. He got out a photograph of The Mick. Yep, that was him, they said, definitely him.
According to those who've read the galleys of "7: The Mickey Mantle Novel," it's salacious as all get out (I mean, come on, it's a Judith Regan book) with Mickey even bedding Marilyn Monroe behind Joe DiMaggio's back.
But let the record show that he never even made it to first base with my wife.
9 comments:
Say it ain't so, Joe!!
Loved the post, Bob. Kudos to your lovely wife who has had good taste for many years, obviously.
But the book? Just knowing it's a Judith Regan title guarantees I won't buy it.
And that's her story and she's sticking to it! ;-)
They had baseball way back in 1974???
Well he didn't die back in 1974 but if I recall properly wasn't that the year Mickey was inducted into the Hall of Fame???????????? I'll prolly pass on the book as well. After all, I am a Cubs fan.
I love this story...and now I really want to meet the lovely Mrs. Morris.
What a fun story! But I'm
curious--what sort of drink does someone like Mickey Mantle send to a young pretty girl in a bar? Beer? Wine? Pina Colada?
His choice probably told her a lot about him, too. :)
Happy New Year!
This time I will definitely go to your Urban Think signing. It's on 2/6/07. My birthday is 2/1/07. I will buy myself a belated birthday present, entitled, "Bermuda Schwartz."
Mick's favorite was Crown and any type of soda. He nearly got me fired in FM, insisting I have one with him durting an interview. You know the saying "just one more". We were inside the Punta Gorda Charlotte HS locker room after a clinic Mick was the guast at with Pete Whisenant and Clay Carroll during a Christmas break. Needless to say, I believe the KC Royals were in FM in 1974, not the Twins.
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