I met Jimmy Piersall. Kid across the street, we're maybe 10. His father says Piersall is coming over. We wait and wait. Jimmy shows up, says hello, signs a baseball for each of us, leaves. Next day me and my friend Benny take the ball, go out in my yard, play catch. The kid's mother comes running over. "You can't play with an autographed ball," she screams. We keep playing. A few years later it hits me; the kid's father PAID Piersall to come over that night.
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