Unexpected motivation: Thanks Bud

Bud Kellogg, owner of Tom Kat, the only sporting goods store in the town I grew up in, died a couple of weeks ago. Dementia had a hold of him. I think he was almost 90. I have a lot of stories about Bud, but the most important to me took place in 1957. I was 8, loved baseball and tried out for the local little league. Turns out, I didn't get chosen. I guess I was too young. I was so disappointed that my Dad spoke to Bud who sponsored a team. He invited me to come to the field on game night and said I could be on the team. I showed up with my Mom, my glove with no string through the fingers and a yellow and white striped T-shirt, no uniform. Everybody had to play at least an inning, and bat, each game. In my first game I struck out and ran to my Mom and cried on her shoulder. Same thing for the next few games. In those days, there were no minor leagues. Each team had kids from 9-12. Can't imagine what the older kids thought of me. Anyway, late in the season, in my mandatory at bat, I finally hit one. It lined just past the pitcher's glove and dribbled into center field, scoring the tying run. I got to first where Bud was coaching. I remember his smile like he was standing in front of me right now. He pumped my hand, ruffled my hair, pounded my back and hugged me. No kid ever felt better than I did that night. I can't remember half of what happened last week. But I remember that incident in real time. I still feel it. It still motivates me, not only to stay fit, but to try to touch others the way Bud touched me. Thanks, Bud.