Standing in the Shadow of an Icon

"The hardcovers are two dollars and the paperbacks a dollar," a gray-haired man about seventy said as I knelt down to dig through a box of books sitting on the ground next to an antique wood-burning stove that he was stuffing with newspaper and attempting to light. The brisk autumn wind snuffed out match after match, but he didn't care. He wasn't going anywhere.

To the left of the stove was a drop-leaf table, and sitting on top were a large cactus, a pile of mismatched dishes, some flatware, and a stack of white napkins. I picked up a napkin. "One dollar each. I warshed them napkins myself," he said between match strikes. "If there's one thing I hate, it's a dirty napkin sittin' on my lap, so I warshed'em." I smiled and told him I appreciated him washing my napkins and handed him four dollars.

I continued to look while he continued to talk. "That was when I was throwing heat for the reds," he said, but I had no idea what that meant, so I smiled and nodded. "That was before Nam," he continued. I smiled again. While he was fiddling with the stove, I walked inside his thrift shop so I could browse without chat. From the parking lot, he saw me staring up at a wall that was covered with framed pictures of sports celebrities. "All them pictures on the wall are signed with authentic signatures,"  he said now standing beside me. The fire was going strong, so he could devote all of his time to his one lone customer. "Yep, I pounded the zone back then," he said as he pointed to some object at a distance, but my focus was back outside on the cactus.

With the thrift shop owner by my side, we returned to the drop-leaf table. I heard him say "my brother and Johnny Bench" then he began to tell me all about the cactus. Huh? Wait a minute! What does his brother and Johnny Bench have to do with this plant? Why does he have so many baseball stars' autographed pictures? And what does "throw heat for the reds" and "pound the zone"mean?

"Where you a baseball player?" I asked as I studied the succulent.

"Yeah. I threw a few for the Cincinnati Reds in my day," he said.

"You were a pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds?"

"Yep!"

He now had my full attention. Cactus? What cactus?  Was I standing in the shadow of an icon, a famous baseball pitcher from the past? I thought about the hundreds, maybe thousands, of baseball cards Jason still has in his barn. I started buying them for him when he was just a toddler, thirty years go, thinking that possibly one card one day would bring a fortune. Is this our lucky day? I mean Jason's lucky day?

"What is your name?" I asked.

"John Strong."

Oh my goodness! What if we have his card? We could be rich. I mean, Jason could be rich. "Okay, I've got it," I said. "John Strong. Pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds.  I'll Google you as soon as I get home."

He stoked the fire in the stove and scratched his head. "Oh, I don't have any of them Googles left," he said.  "I gave them all to my children."

Huh?

So...what I just said about getting rich.  Never mind.