Autograph Chasing and High School Athletes Gone Grey

I remember thinking afterward that a normal couple would not have done what we just did.

Here’s the story. This was about eighteen years ago in Phoenix at Milwaukee Brewers’ spring training. Ted Simmons, the catcher traded to the Brewers from St. Louis, made famous when he helped the Brewers win the pennant in 1982, was bench coach for the Brewers under manager Ned Yost and then Dale Sveum.

[Ted Simmons is now a 76-year-old guy who is in the Baseball Hall of Fame. He was in Milwaukee today for a huge full-stadium tribute to Bob Uecker, our legendary announcer, hometown comedian, beloved son of Milwaukee who died at 90 in January after calling his last game in September of 2024.]

Will I ever get to the story?

Anyway, so my husband, Howard, and I are in Phoenix in 2007, driving across town to the Brewers spring training stadium. We are talking about Ted Simmons becoming the Brewers’ bench coach. Howard decides, while we are driving, that we need to make a sign to wave at the spring training game, so Ted Simmons knows that someone from Southfield High School, Class of 1966, namely me, is in the audience, and then, he figures maybe he can get his autograph. This is because Ted Simmons was in the Southfield High School, Class of 1967. Also, because I talk about going to school with Ted Simmons any time someone talks about the legendary ’82 Brewers. I watched Ted Simmons play a lot of sports. He was extremely cute and very athletic. Out of my league, though, if you get my drift.

Are you still with me?

The first thing you need to know about Howard is that if he is headed to spring training, he has on his person a Sharpie. This is because the minute he walks into the stadium he will start getting autographs – from the beer vendor, the security guard, one of the Racing Sausages, and then players, new ones and old ones, one after the other as they enter the stadium along the first base line.

He starts looking for cardboard scraps along the highway, sees a good size piece, and swerves to the shoulder. “This will do!” he says and then he grabs his Sharpie and writes: BLUE JAYS, SOUTHFIELD HIGH SCHOOL! The whole while I am shaking my head and rolling my eyes, but only partly so because I’m wondering if Ted Simmons, THE Ted Simmons will remember me.

Okay, so how does it end?

We get to the stadium, carry the sign down the fence next to the Brewers dugout. And while I try to shrink into a paper beer cup, Howard yells at Ted Simmons. “Hey, Ted! Southfield High School here!” and, sure enough, while I cringe myself inside out, Ted Simmons comes over. Howard keeps talking while I wave and say hi, thinking I need to remind Ted what my name was then. And he looks at me, studies me, the girl ahead of him by one year who watched endless basketball and football games that he played, and he said, he said, “I don’t remember you. But it’s been a long time.”

I think we got an autograph but I’m not sure. It’s all a blur after that.

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Here’s a photo from today’s event. It’s funny how a good-looking guy in high school can stick in your head for decades. As my mom would say, he always had a great head of hair.