Hitting grounders for Mac's Bargain House

Back in 1977, I struck fear in opposing infielders in the Hollow Rock-Bruceton (Tenn.) Little League with my ability to hit grounders for Mac's Bargain House.

Not to mention my ability to scowl at the pitcher.

There were only four teams in the league, so I got to know the guys on Hopper Drug, H.I.S., and Bank pretty well.

Especially the infielders!

Nana and her Big Red Machine

I loved my Nana (and her chocolate pie) as much as she loved following Cincinnati's Big Red Machine of the 1970s.

Nana was Iota Fry, my great-grandmother and lover of God, her family, and baseball.

Everyone else in Bruceton, Tenn., knew her as Mama Fry or Miss Iota, but she was simply Nana to my brother Michael and me.

Among many other life lessons, Nana taught us what it meant to fervently follow a sports team.

Her team featured the fearsome lineup of Johnny Bench, Tony Perez (she pronounced his last name "Ferez"), Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Dave Concepcion, Ken Griffey Sr., and Cesar Geronimo.

Whenever we visited her house, she was always ready to discuss the box score from the previous day's game and debate the strategies of manager Sparky Anderson.

And, on frequent Saturday afternoons in the mid-70s when the Reds were winning big, she got to watch the Reds play on the Game of the Week on her black-and-white TV.

Occasionally, when we tried to kid her about one of her Cincy guys, she kidded us right back by "threatening" to get us with her fly-swatter.

My parents took her with us to St. Louis to see the Cardinals play the Reds when I was 11 or 12 years old. She was in her 70s at the time, and I remember my parents being fearful that she would pass out from heatstroke inside old Busch Stadium on a blistering summer afternoon.

Nana wore a huge gardening hat to shield her fair skin from the sun. Fortunately, it worked and she had the time of her life.

The photo of her above is from a baseball exhibit we saw during the trip. We photographed her standing next to Bench's game-worn #5 Reds uniform and cap.

It's one of my favorite baseball memories.

I wouldn't be surprised if Nana watches baseball every day in heaven, and she probably can't wait for the Big Red Machine reunion.

C'mon. Trade Me That Card!

Some 30 years ago, all the boys in our Bruceton, Tenn., neighborhood played baseball daily.

When we weren't playing, we traded baseball cards and talked about our baseball heroes.

One summer I took a liking to the specialty cards that Kellogg's inserted into its cereal boxes.

Most of the Kellogg's cards were 3-D, but one of my buddies traded me the majority of cards from the 1973 set, which were printed in 2-D.

It took some time, but I somehow managed to collect all of the cards in the '72 set except for stubble-faced Joe Torre of the St. Louis Cardinals.

Marty Roberts, who was a few years my junior, had the card that I coveted.

And he wasn't prepared to let it go without trading for something of greater value.

Smart guy.

It finally came down to a standoff between my prized card of Minnesota slugger Harmon Killebrew and Marty's card of Torre.

The standoff lasted for at least three days, long enough for everyone in the neighborhood to shout "Killebrew for Torre" at each of us until the swap was finally made.

Killebrew for Torre, anyone?