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Homage to a great hitter The Kid's feats recalled by fans By Chris Snow, Globe Correspondent, 7/23/2002
Despite sun and temperatures in the 80s, the uniform in vogue was the replica No. 9 home flannel worn by Ted Williams in 1939. ''It was a gift for getting my masters' in May,'' said Westford's Bob Welch, 50, accompanied by his wife, Sandy. ''It may be warm, but that's OK.'' The Welches were among 20,500 paying customers for last night's tribute to Williams, with proceeds to benefit the Jimmy Fund. Between 9 a.m. and 1 p.m. yesterday, an estimated 12,000 fans walked along the Green Monster that Williams played in the shadow of for more than two decades, and by his Hall of Fame plaque mounted on the Wall. But Welch could speak of Williams from a personal interaction. ''I met him at a sportsman's show when I was 8,'' said Welch, estimating it to have been 1960, the year the member of both the baseball and fly fishing hall of fames retired. ''He was set up at the fishing display, and I wondered, `Why is he with the rods and not the bats?' I was in awe. He was such a legend.'' A member of the Navy reserves, Mike McCaffrey, 46, felt a connection to the former Marine. ''We worship the wrong guys,'' McCaffrey said. ''Ted Williams was the greatest hitter who ever lived, but he was a complete man.'' McCaffrey's 15-year-old son, Ryan, paid $200 two years ago for a 1956 Topps card of Williams. ''I saved two summers for that, mowing lawns and baby-sitting,'' he said. In exchange for his ticket to last night's ceremony, Ryan helped his dad paint the family's home. Told he received below market value - tickets ranged from $9 to $27 - for his work, Ryan said, ''It's worth it.'' It was worth it for Deb and Ron Lewis of Seattle to sit 502 feet from home plate, two chairs from the red seat that Williams struck with what the Red Sox say is the longest homer ever hit at Fenway. Flowers wrapped in ribbons occupied Seat 21 of Row 37 in Section 42, and the couple moved down a few seats to accommodate the many posing there for pictures. For both, being near the seat for such a vintage moment overshadowed the vantage point. ''If you can't be at home plate,'' said Ron Lewis, ''why not be out here?'' ''We lucked out,'' said Deb. ''We walked by on a tour last night, heard about this, and wanted to sit out here.'' Bob McGillicuddy, 67, and Jack Anderson, 66, ate together on Yawkey Way, reminiscing. ''I have five kids, all in their 30s,'' said McGillicuddy, who attended his first game in 1946, ''and I try to tell them of the fluidity of his swing. We didn't know at the time how good he was. Now it's like, `You know, he was the greatest hitter of all time.''' And, they said, one of the most single-minded. ''We were here for a doubleheader in 1948 against Cleveland,'' McGillicuddy said, ''and the first game Ted homered a couple of times. Then they put on a shift and moved three men to the right of second [base]. So Ted comes up, and he wouldn't punch the ball the other way.'' ''He wanted to power it through,'' Anderson said. ''He was stubborn.'' Tim Nguyen, 31, from Williams's hometown of San Diego, needed to drive only three exits down Interstate 15 in Southern California to feel Williams's influence. ''Ted Williams Parkway, I believe,'' said Nguyen, who like Welch wore Williams's '39 edition shirt. ''They have named a lot of streets and buildings after him. He was like the native son of San Diego. The people there are really, really proud.'' Here, too.
This story ran on page F6 of the Boston Globe on 7/23/2002. | |||||||
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p and down an overflowing Yawkey Way yesterday, the Red Sox jersey that stood out the most was not the polyester and cotton home white of Nomar Garciaparra's No. 5, Manny Ramirez's No. 24, or Pedro Martinez's No. 45.