Shill and Jungle

CarTTalk was always up to something. And one of our biggest scores was wheedling our way---during baseball’s spring training---into the annual Red Sox charity golf tournament in Fort Myers, Fla.

The timing was perfect. Betsy, our college friend’s wife, ran the charity tournament for the local hospital and it just so happened that this was Curt Shilling’s first day with the Red Sox.  Betsy, who didn’t know baseball, naïvely put Shilling in our foursome.

This was so wrong as fans, big donors, Red Sox players were all lined up to meet the Sox’s new fireballer. And he gets stuck playing with the CarTTalk guys and Betsy’s husband who can’t hit it past the ladies’ tees.

So, a good time was had by all (except Curt) as during the entire round fans and Red Sox players came out on the course to meet Shil (by the third hole we had overstepped our bounds and were calling him Shil).

But even considering all this attention this would not be my favorite story of that day of days. When we were checking in, getting our credentials for the tournament, I heard Betsy ask a co-worker if Mr. Rivera had checked in.

And I said, “Excuse me, could that be Jim Rivera?” Jim Rivera was the famous old Go Go White Sox center fielder. It turned out that he always played in the Red Sox tournament because he resided in Ft. Myers.

This for me was even bigger that Shilling and I went off on a mad dash to find the Great Jungle Jim Rivera. And finally, there he was—this cute little guy wearing one of those flat Go-to-Hell hats, working on his short game on the putting green. I asked and he replied saying that he was indeed Jungle Jim Rivera. And that’s when I sprung my surprise, “Mr. Rivera,” I said, “I think we have a mutual friend.”
“And who might that be?,” he said.

“Sammy Esposito,”  I said.

Sam had been the White Sox utility infielder and played with Rivera for a decade right up to that ’59 World Series with the Dodgers. Explaining that Sam was the NC State baseball coach, and that I worked at NC State I asked if he’d like to chat with his old friend.

He was delighted.

And with that I went to my golf bag, pulled out my cell phone and called Espo.

“Holy shit,” Sam said, “Jungle, haven’t talked to him in 50 years!”

What fun this was, just standing there overhearing those two laughing, reminiscing.

When they closed the call, Rivera, still laughing and thanking me profusely, stopped suddenly and out of the clear blue said, “Here’s one I forgot to tell Sam.  Son, do you know the most money I ever made in baseball?”

I didn’t.

Then he said, “Well on Opening Day we were playing the Senators in Griffith Stadium in Washington. And the president always threw a ball to the team’s players.

Now, I had seen Jack Kennedy in those movie reels, playing touch football, and I saw him throw a football and knew he had a pretty good arm.

So, our players ganged around the dugout. But I ran out to second base and waved to the President. And he threw me the ball. A perfect strike. I ran in and got him to sign it and I sold that ball at an internet auction last year for $60,000.”

So, quite a CarTTalk day. Shilling and the golf were great, the story about the $60,000 ball was a good one but as memories go---reuniting Sam and Jungle Jim Rivera—hearing the laughter of those two old friends, well that was priceless.