It’s almost World Series time. I’m not a baseball fan. I doubt I could even name all the major league teams. I did attend a Pirates game one time and saw a couple home runs and a triple play. It was a high-scoring affair so it was great. I also attended a couple of “Dog Day” Jamestown Jammers game with Winston, our Old English Sheepdog. I enjoyed watching the dogs more than watching the game.

When I started working at Whirley, I was sent to a bunch of trade shows to learn how to do them. One was attached to the “Baseball Winter Meetings.” It was, probably, early December, and it was in Nashville.

Most of the time, people were in the convention center’s meeting rooms wheeling and dealing whatever those people wheel and deal. I think there may have been a draft or player-trading sessions going on.

The trade show was happening all day in the basement. There were companies that had all the equipment needed to play the game; uniforms, souvenir tee shirts and jackets, bases, baseballs, gloves, pitching machines..

Some of the people there were from the minor leagues and in some cases, the team managers also managed the logistics of their stadium, including concessions. We wanted to sell them the sport bottles and mugs for their soft drink and beer sales.

Between meetings and seminars, the people would come downstairs and wander around looking at all the merchandise.

A couple booths down the aisle stood “Morgana the Kissing Bandit.” Her claim to fame was her, well, physical attributes. “Statuesque” is an apt description. More understated than apt, now that I think about it. For a fee, she’d show up at your ballpark in hot pants and a tee shirt and bounce onto the field and plant a “surprise” kiss on the cheek of an unsuspecting player, coach, or umpire. After that, she’d bounce through the stands selling peanuts in silver packets with big lip prints on them. Turns out she was a very nice person, too.

So, I went over to the booth where they were demonstrating pitching machines and traded a coffee mug for a baseball. I asked Morgana for an autograph and she happily obliged. Her signature included a huge “M” with little dots that represented. Did I mention that she was well-endowed?

Anyway, I had my souvenir. Some time later, Tommy Lasorda came through. He was one of the few people in the baseball world that I recognized. I engaged him in conversation and got a picture of him holding a Whirley mug. “You can’t use that for advertising unless you talk with my agent,” he said. I asked if he signed autographs. He said: “Sure!” So I handed him my “Morgana” ball. He looked at it and asked: “Who’s this?” I pointed to Morgana. He signed the ball and said: “I think I’d rather go talk to her!” And he did.

A little while later, there he was, Yogi Berra! Even I knew and appreciated that neat guy. He must have sneaked out of a meeting since there were very few people walking the show. He was by himself. “Yogi!” I said. He stopped and waved. I walked over and he reached out his hand to shake. He seemed so unassuming and almost shy. I asked: “Do you sign autographs?” He said: “OK.” I handed him my “Morgana-Lasorda” ball. He said: “I know this one guy, who’s the other one?” I pointed to Morgana. He said: “WOW!” , signed my ball, and disappeared.

A few years later, a friend’s son, who was a total baseball nut, graduated from high school. I gave him the ball and he was thrilled. His dad said: “Might have been a good idea to have gotten a couple more baseballs.” Right, those two guys really messed up my Morgana souvenir.