by Dave Schroeder
On January 19th, 2013, beloved St. Louis Cardinal legend Stan Musial passed away. In his Hall of Fame career, he helped the Cardinals win three World Series titles, won three MVPs, had 3,630 hits and 475 home runs, won the NL batting title seven times, while also appearing in a record 24 All-Star games. Despite all of those accomplishments, he even gave up the 1945 season to serve in the Navy during World War II. One of my favorite additional pieces is that in 1957, he became the first major league player to earn an annual salary of $100,000. After a sub-par season in 1959 and hit a career low .255, Musial asked the Cardinals to cut his salary to $80,000. Can you imagine someone today doing that? In 2011 he was given the much deserved Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Obama. The numbers speak for themselves. But there is more to the man than the numbers.
His statues grace Busch Stadium in St. Louis because of something different many always knew. There is a reason people would call him “The Man” that most people outside of St. Louis would not have had the opportunity to witness. The blessing for anyone living in St. Louis was that sooner or later you would have run into Stan The Man. I saw him at several events playing the harmonica or interacting with people at a game. That was just his character. I never got to see him play but I did get to see something even more special.
When I was 18, I was caddying and working in the pro shop at Old Warson Country Club in Ladue, Missouri. That summer of 1997, I was also worked as a “greeter”, which meant that I was the person who welcomed people driving up to the front entrance to drop off their golf bag before parking. My job was to make sure they had a pleasant and smooth experience.
One day, the legendary Cardinals broadcaster, Jack Buck, came to play with his son Joe (now famous as Fox Sports Commentator), and they brought none other but Stan the Man. It was special day because while they were warming up on the golf range, both Jack and Stan stayed to talk with me for thirty minutes. I don’t remember specifically what we discussed but they were so cordial and interested in my life, and avoiding the temptation to talk about themselves. Once their time was ready, they went off to play their golf round.
Four hours later, I was slammed by a large group of people from a tournament that came in from the course so I was taking care of 4 or 5 people at any given moment. Unfortunately, the Buck-Buck-Musial threesome came back in at the same time and Stan walked up to me while I was running around.
Stan said to me while handing me his shoes and car keys,
“Hey Dave (yes he remembered my name), do you mind putting my shoes in my car while I go back and get something inside the clubhouse?”
I quickly replied,
“Yes of course, Stan. Right away.”
I immediately took care of that task because it was Stan and went back to taking care of every other golfer who needed help. When Stan came back from the clubhouse, he walked toward me and said,
“Dave, I’m ready to go. Do you have my keys?”
I put my hands in my pockets to get the keys and they weren’t there. I replied,
“One moment Stan, I’ll go find them, I think they are in the golf cart.”
I walked back to the cart and they weren’t there. I wondered where in the world I left them. I did what I knew and retraced my steps. I walked back all the way to Stan’s trunk of his car. I stopped and stared at the trunk for a few moments.
I thought to myself, Oh my God, I locked his keys in his trunk with his golf shoes. I’m dead. I’m fired. My boss will kill me. This is it, I’m done. Game over for me at Old Warson. I was the village idiot. On top of that, the realization that I just locked the keys in the car of a legend, my dad’s boyhood hero, Stan The Man, was hitting me. There was nothing I could do because I needed to tell him. So, I humbly walked back to Stan and as I approached him, Jack Buck walked up next to Stan. This became the humiliation-fest times ten now.
I said in a lowly voice,
“Stan, I am so sorry but I locked your keys in the trunk of your car with your shoes. I was moving much too fast and I’m incredibly sorry. How can I make this right?”
Stan replied with a big smile,
“Oh Dave no sweat at all, Jack is right here and he can take me to my house to get my spare set. We’ll be right back.”
The thirty minutes they were gone was agonizing to me because I was so worried that my boss would find out and they would be frustrated when coming back.
When they came back to me, both Jack Buck and Stan said,
“Thank you, Dave”
Then they handed me a $20 tip with 2 front row tickets for the Cardinals game that night. I was speechless but quickly regained composure to thank them.
It was the tip of a hat grace I will always remember. It was the character and action of real grace that Stan Musial will always remind me of in life. I remember coming home to tell my dad about what happened and he laughed so hard. I think he gave me a hug that night too as a reminder that no matter what mistakes we make in life, there is always a need to show another person grace.
God’s grace is that he loves you and is there for you despite the fact that you’re a sinner. You just have to choose to put that grace first in your life.