Funny Guy Friday... Brush with greatness...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
    Guess who I had dinner with on Wednesday night. You will never get it unless I help you out. One of them played in 2,632 consecutive major league baseball games and the other one is one of only three players in the history of baseball to have three thousand hits and five hundred home runs.
     If you guessed Cal Ripken and Eddie Murray, you would be correct.  Don't be too proud of yourself though, I just gave you a big hint.
     That's right, the three of us sat around and chatted about breaking into the major leagues. How it felt to play in an Oriole organization led by Earl Weaver. Weaver even showed up for a few minutes to add his unique insight. He reviewed all of Cal's and Eddie's feats... and then smiled and said that he taught them everything they knew about baseball.
     That Weaver, what a character. He was asked what he was thinking when he lost his last game as a manager......a devastating loss to the Milwaukee Brewers on the last day of the season knocking the O's out of the American League playoffs. His response was classic... I was getting cheered and I came out to acknowledge the crowd and all I was thinking was that I wish that Cal or Eddie would have hit a bomb and driven in a few more runs. 
    Cal went on to tell me how he felt the day he broke Lou Gehrig's record and why he decided to sit out the final home game of the 1998 season. Eddie described in detail the pressures of getting that 3,000th hit and that 500th home run. Both told me what it felt like to be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. I think that they felt comfortable with me because we were worthy adversaries that shared some of the same career experiences.
     What's that, you say, adversaries? That's right, competitors from way back. Back in 1982 I made my major league debut. I was pinch hitting in the bottom of the eighth when I worked the count to 3 and 2. I fought off a few wicked fast balls that probably would have resulted in ball four but I had expanded the strike zone... I was called on to hit and besides, who wants to walk in their major league debut?      
    Jim Palmer was pitching and he eventually threw me a pitch that I could handle. I hit a screaming line drive right at second baseman Len Sakata. Tough luck but that is baseball. Despite making an out in my major league debut, I was pretty sure that I made a big impression on Cal and Eddie.
     I was a little surprised that after an hour and a half of chit chat, they never brought that day up.  I would have slipped it into the conversation had I been given the chance. The truth be told, those two guys would not shut up!
     Okay, the truth be told, it wasn't just Cal, Eddie and me. You see, the two of them were getting inducted into the Baltimore Sports Hall of Legends, and I was one of about fifteen hundred attendees, in a ballroom at the Baltimore Hilton. Actually, we were lucky to receive a last minute invite from some good friends. Cal and Eddie had a nice fireside chat without the fire. It was awesome.
     But the rest of the story is true... except I did not hit a screaming line drive to Len Sakata... I popped up.  Oh, and Palmer was not pitching, it was some kid from their minor league system... probably the low level of their minor league system. Oh yeah, I was a freshman at the University of Maryland and the O's were just coming back from spring training. They reluctantly agreed to scrimmage our college team. It was hardly my major league debut.   
    But the rest of the story is true. I swear!
    Of course, this was not my first brush with greatness. I partied with Walter Cronkite. Yep... that Walter Cronkite.
     Cheryl and I got invited to a 25th anniversary of WETA by the same folks that invited us to the Hall of Legends dinner. Did I mention that they were good friends. Cronkite was the featured guest. There was a cocktail hour before the dinner and people were lined up to speak with Cronkie... we're pretty close now, so I call him Cronkie.
     I am not big on that kind of stuff and really wondered what I would say if I ever did make it to the front of the line. To be honest, I thought he was dead, but you really can't start a conversation with It sure is nice to meet you, I thought you had been dead for years... or You look great for a dead guy.
     Cheryl urged me to get in line and meet this legend. Despite her pressure, I resisted. Besides, the line was way too long and the dinner was getting ready to start.
     Then like the Red Sea, the line parted and there was my new friend standing all alone. He seemed kind of lonely. Cheryl continued to coax me, but I just felt funny going up to some dead guy and trying to start a conversation. Finally, I felt sorry for the old guy standing there all alone with nobody to talk to, so I gave in and went over to strike up a conversation.
     As I extended my hand, some lady came running up and said in a not so nice tone, Sir, we are getting ready to take some pictures... Would you please stand out of the way. 
     I told her, in no uncertain terms, that I was unaware that anyone wanted to take my picture... and that was no way for anyone to talk to a legend like Walter Cronkite.
     Oh... They want pictures of him... Not me… Oh... Never mind then!  I'll just stand over here.  
     No wonder the line parted like the Red Sea! He wasn't lonely, he wasn't even dead. He was just photogenic. How did I miss that?
     The saddest part of the whole thing was that I had decided what I was going to say to him, had that lady not so rudely interrupted. It is something that was unique to me... and it most certainly would have captivated his attention.
     What would I have talked to Walter Cronkite about had I been given the chance?
     If you guessed that I would have told him how I hit a frozen rope to Len Sakata off of Jim Palmer in my major league debut......you would have been correct. But don't be too proud of yourself... I just gave you a big hint!