Legendary Chicago Cubs shortstop Ernie Banks passed away last month. The Cubs, Ernie Banks, Hank Sauer, Ron Santo and others played a big part in my young life. I would often sit next to a floor model radio we had in our apartment behind my dad’s Chicago dry cleaning store and listen to the games.
But, when I heard about Banks’ passing, I thought of my mother.
In particular, I thought of one day at Wrigley Field, home of the Cubbies. I would have been six or seven years old. My dad took us there occasionally and it usually was cold and rainy – thank you Lake Michigan – but this day was sunny and warm.
Portrait of my mom, drawn by my daughter, on the wall of my office.
We were sitting on the third base side of the field, a little lower than usual. My dad had gotten good seats and we were having a great time. Dad went to get hot dogs and drinks, leaving my mom and I to watch the game.
Ernie Banks came up to bat. A couple of rows up from us, just to my mom’s left, there were two men. They began yelling, deriding Banks with the n-word and various racial insults current in 1950s.
To my surprise, my mom stood up, all 4-foot-11-inches of her, and began yelling at the men, telling them to shut up and not to call Banks bad names. They shut up. She sat back down. I was very proud of her.