Meeting Mickey Mantle

Back in the summer of 1994 (I think it was in June. Maybe July. I’m not sure, though I remember it being hot as Hades), I was a volunteer marshal at a celebrity golf tournament held at the Barton Creek Country Club in Austin, Texas.

I was assigned to the tee box on a par three hole on the back nine. My job was to hold up a sign asking the crowd to be quiet as players prepared for and made their tee shots. It was a fairly hilly course, a bit of a hike from the clubhouse to the hole, and I was on the morning shift. All this meant there wasn’t a crowd, or even an individual, to ask for silence throughout my shift.

I just stood there, alone, looking out from an elevated tee over a gorgeous golf hole, and greeted the players when they approached.

My main purpose in volunteering was to meet my childhood baseball hero, Mickey Mantle, and hopefully get his autograph on a baseball. There were several others playing that day whom I wanted to add to my small autograph collection, but meeting Mantle was the primary factor.

Golfers

The first players I met that day were Tom Kite and Ben Crenshaw—two world-class professional golfers, members of the World Golf Hall of Fame, each with 19 PGA tour wins. Both are Texas-born and played for the University of Texas at the same time. They’re both super nice guys, too, and happily signed golf balls for me.

Willie

I also asked Willie Nelson to sign a golf ball, and he said, “I’m really high right now, and those little fuckers are hard to sign, but sure, I’ll give it a shot.” We both laughed as he scribbled something vaguely resembling an autograph. We chatted for several minutes, mostly about the old Armadillo World Headquarters music venue. Sadly, it was demolished in 1981, and an office building was built in its place—which I worked in for a couple of years just prior to this tournament.

Mr. Cub

Ernie Banks, aka “Mr. Cub,” pulled up in his golf cart a couple of groups before Mantle was to arrive. Ernie’s other nickname was “Mr. Sunshine,” and I can see why. He was smiling, laughing, and cutting up the entire time. I said, “Mr. Banks, would you sign a ball for me?” and he replied, “Only if you call me Ernie. Here, hold this for me,” and he handed me a bag of Cheetos he’d been munching on. Despite wiping his hands on his pants before taking the ball and pen, he left some of that orange Cheeto dust on the ball. He laughed and said, “Sorry, my friend. If you have another ball, I’ll wash my hands first.” I said, “Nah, I like it like this,” and tucked it in my bag. Thirty years later, you can still see the Cheetos mark on the ball.

The Mick

When Mantle rounded the corner, I was surprised to feel nervous. I’m pretty sure I said out loud, “Holy shit, that’s Mickey Mantle.” He literally skidded to a stop, got out, stuck out his hand, and said, “Morning! How are you doing?”

“Great!” I said, shaking his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you Mr. Mantle.”

“Mickey. And you are…”

“Jay.”

“Well, thanks for volunteering for this, Jay.” Looking around, he said, “Has it been this crowded all day?”

“Not a soul. It’s kind of nice.”

He asked me if I was a Yankee’s fan. I told him I lived in Brooklyn when I was in 4th and 5th grade and followed the Mets back then. That got an eyeroll and a head shake (and a smile). “But I did read The Baseball Life of Mickey Mantle like a dozen times around that time, if that counts,” I said.

“It counts for making me feel old.”

“Could I bother you to sign a ball for me?”

“Sure! But I gotta tell you, I’m under a contract and I can’t sign balls on the sweet spot. And I have to personalize it. That’ll make it worth a lot less on the open market. It’s dumb, but those are the rules. Sorry.”

“Oh, I’d never sell this. It’s priceless to me,” I said, handing him the ball.

“It’s J-A-Y, right?”

“Yessir.”

He signed it and carefully held it by the seams. “Let’s give it a minute. Sometimes the ink smears.” Clearly, the man had signed a billion baseballs in his time.

“So, what have people been hitting here?” Mickey asked me, looking out at the green.

“Most people are hitting a 7. Almost everyone comes up short.”

“Can you hand me my 6?”

Can I hand Mickey Mantle his golf club? Uh, yeah. I can do that.

“Hey Mantle! Try not to shank it. Again.” His playing partner laughed. (I have no idea who his partner was.)

Mick proceeds to hit a perfect tee shot, sticking it about three feet from the pin. “Ha!” he says, gives his partner the finger, leans over, and whispers to me, “Watch me miss the putt.”

“You won’t miss. I’ve been watching people all morning. It’s going to break pretty hard right from there. Right at the hole.”

“Thanks. Watcha got in there?” he asked, pointing at my cooler.

“Water. Want one?”

“Yeah, thanks. Really nice meeting you, Jay!” and he shook my hand again.

“Thanks, Mickey!”

And off he went with a wave. He took forever to putt, but when he drained it, he looked back, pointed at me, gave me a fist pump, and took a bow.

It’s been over thirty years, but I remember every word of that conversation. I’ll never forget those 10 minutes I spent with him.

Sadly, Mickey Mantle was diagnosed with liver cancer a few months later. He had a liver transplant in June 1995 and passed away on August 13, 1995 at the age of 63.

Others

I met a ton of people that day. Most of the baseball, football, and hockey players were retired, but some were still active. Most of the athletes I met were very personable. Many thanked me for volunteering. A few were standoff-ish, and some didn’t even appear to know I was there. Mantle had a long-held reputation of being a jerk, but was extremely nice to me and others I saw him interact with. Maybe that’s because he’d recently gone through rehab when I met him, and he was finally sober (decades of alcoholism is what killed him).

• Mario Lemieux, the hockey superstar, was very polite, but quite soft-spoken and seemed almost shy. He’s also gigantic (6’4″, 235 pounds).
• Rollie Fingers, the baseball Hall of Fame relief pitcher, was hilarious. Yes, he still had the mustache.
• Mike Schmidt, widely considered the greatest third baseman of all time, asked me if I had an extra baseball he could buy. He’d met a kid earlier who only had a scrap of paper to sign, and he wanted to find him and give him a signed baseball. I gave him a baseball. I have no idea if he ever found the kid (but I like to think he did).

The golf tournament haul:
Mario Lemieux signed hockey puck
Baseballs autographed by Ernie Banks, Mickey Mantle, Johnny Bench, Mike Schmidt, Rollie Fingers, Steve Carlton
Golf balls signed by Willie Nelson, Ben Crenshaw, Tom Kite, Jim McMahon