Free from All Voices, His Soul Without Burdens

A tribute to my cousin Richie and Mr. Baseball, Bob Uecker

On June 1, 1986, my seven-year-old cousin Richie won the opportunity to be the Cleveland Indians honorary batboy. The contest’s sponsor drew a random name for each Sunday home game from among the entries, and the winner got to sit with me on the field during the game. I was the ballboy down the right field line all season and worked in the visiting team’s clubhouse before and after games.

Before the game, Richie met several Indians players, including Joe Carter, Pat Tabler, and Andre Thornton. After getting autographs and photos, I took Richie to the batting cage where the visiting Milwaukee Brewers were hitting. I could have introduced him to future Hall of Famers Robin Yount or Paul Molitor. I chose someone else instead.

“This is the guy you want to sign your baseball,” I told Richie. “This is Bob Uecker. Mr. Uecker, this is my cousin, Richie. He’s the honorary batboy today.”

“Heyyy, Ricky!” he said, extending his hand.

“It’s Richie,” I corrected him.

“That’s what I said,” Bob insisted. “Ricky!”

I should’ve known. I was a fool to take Bob seriously about anything, which is why I wanted Richie to meet him. Bob had me in stitches that entire weekend. Everyone in baseball and beyond loved everything about him, from his broadcasting skills to his self-deprecating humor to his sincere…