Deja Vu

I’ve mentioned before that I live about 1/3 mile from where Lou and Eleanor Gehrig lived in Larchmont, NY, and today, as the New Year gets under way, I too feel like the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

I am filled with gratitude for the wonderful family that surrounds me: two sons, two daughters, two daughters-in-law, a grandson and a granddaughter, the Bachman family I married into and the families my sons married into, my younger sister and my nonagenarian father. 

I have also been blessed with a career that began in 1972, a calling that still calls me. On the eve of New Year’s Eve, ESPN.com ran a very long story I wrote about Clyde Sukeforth, the Maine native who was present for so much of baseball history. It was a story borne of a socially-distant family trip my twin daughters and I made back in September to Waldoboro, ME, which is where Clyde lived most of his life and where he is buried. Here it is:

https://www.espn.com/mlb/story/_/id/30555113/the-enduring-bond-jackie-robinson-man-guided-majors

Don’t worry, there won’t be a quiz. But it was truly a labor of love that put me in contact with old friends and colleagues at a time when we’re in need of contact. Because I’ve been typing for so long, I have this other extended job-related family, and a body of work that sometimes leaves me shaking my head at my outrageous fortune. The stories I write now often remind me of stories I wrote then, which is kind of why I’m doing this blog. Because my cloud storage is full, I especially like it when someone does the recalling for me.

Clyde Sukeforth in his 90s

So I was very pleased to get an email yesterday from Jordan Kobritz, a sports management professor at SUNY Cortland and investor in minor league baseball teams (such as the Wichita Wind Surge) who writes a sports business blog called sportsbeyondthelines.com. I first met him in Old Orchard Beach, Maine back in 1984. I went up to there to do a piece on the Maine Guides that summer—a few months before marriage added wings to my home life. Kobritz, a former DA and law professor, chucked his career to get into minor league baseball, and he and the town fathers had lured the Cleveland Indians’ Triple-A team there. It was like Bull Durham and Field of Dreams rolled into one. Here’s the story I wrote then:

https://vault.si.com/vault/1984/07/09/its-the-maine-attraction

The Ballpark, which is what they called the stadium they carved out of a forest, could’ve been built by Ray Kinsella. I was charmed by the setting, the players, the fans, manager Doc Edwards, and the investors, one of whom was another former attorney who wanted to get into broadcasting—Gary Thorne. If you read the story carefully, though, you’ll notice that because of some sloppy editing, his first name was dropped. Gary went on to call games for ESPN and the Baltimore Orioles, and whenever we ran into each other, he would call me “Wulf”, and we would have a good laugh.

Jordan Kobritz and I also crossed paths occasionally at baseball’s winter meetings. As charming as the Guides were—I still have my sweatshirt—they weren’t sustainable, in part because they had to compete with the mosquitos. So Jordan has become something of a minor league Bill Veeck while teaching on-line marketing courses.

You can still order Maine Guides T-shirts at TeePublic

Given Clyde Sukeforth’s love for baseball and his proximity to Portland, I should have intuited that he and Jordan would know each other. Turns out they were pretty close, as I found out the other day when Jordan provided me with this sweet postscript to the story:

Imagine my delight when I opened up the ESPN baseball page today and found an article about my all-time favorite baseball person. Boy, did it bring back memories, of Clyde first and foremost, who I met when I owned the Guides. I have fond memories of sitting in Clyde’s house reading letters from Jackie and talking (listening, when I could get him to talk!) about baseball.

A Clyde story I haven’t shared before. In ’95 I visited Clyde and Grethel while in Maine for the Christmas holiday. Earlier that year I had sent them caps featuring the new Daytona Cubs logo, Cubby, our mascot. Clyde was wearing it as he met us at the door of the entryway leading into his house. He started to open the door and as he backed away to let us in, suddenly he seemed to disappear. It didn’t take me long to realize he went over backwards! … Not to worry, Despite being 95 at the time, he quickly bounced to his feet, unfazed. He dusted himself off, and with a smile on his face, pointed to his cap, invited us in and asked if we wanted a cup of tea.

Other memories. Moody’s, where I’ve eaten many a piece of pie. Bud Leavitt, the long-time sports editor of my hometown newspaper and a former fishing and spring training buddy. Birdie Tebbetts, who I took to L.L. Bean after a late-night Maine Guides game (and he wouldn’t leave until he saw everything they had in stock in every building!)

Roy Campanella, who I spotted during a tour of Dodger Stadium after the 1985 Baseball Winter Meetings in San Diego. There was a Christmas party going on, and I immediately recognized Campy sitting in his wheelchair. I leaned over and said quietly, “You don’t know me, but I want you to know that I’ve long admired you, and it’s an honor to meet you.” Whereupon a smile crossed his face as he shook my hand. Then I added, “We both know someone who thinks the world of you, Clyde Sukeforth.” The smile quickly left his face, and he proceeded to cry like a baby, all the while squeezing my hand. When I told Clyde that story, he was more stoic (typical Mainer!) than Campy had been, but I could tell he was moved.

So thank you, Jordan. I hesitate to think how long the story would have been had I talked to you beforehand.

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