I’m sorry to hear about your dad. I was just going through my year books and remembering dust sweat and good times.
Your dad, Tom King and I were part of the pony outfield for Blackie the baseball coach at Gresham high school. We were given the name pony outfield because we are the only sophomores that made the varsity baseball team that year. As the years went by your dad moved into first base, Tom King moved over to shortstop, but I remained in centerfield.
Your dad hated to slide but I think the real thing was that he didn’t want to take a dirty uniform home to your grandmother to wash. Because of rainouts sometimes we would have three games a week and the infield being all dirt we were,to say the least, a muddy mess most of the time.
He played hard, fielded well, and hit extremely well.
I remember standing in the locker room with your dad and Tom as we read our names posted on the varsity team roster. Cars and girls could not hold a candle to that moment. As part of pony outfield he will always part of my spring.