It was at our local diamond that I saw my first major leaguer, close-up. We had a game with Mt. Carmel, one of the teams that would challenge perennial champs Amelia (us) that 1956 season. Mr. Anstaett, our Amelia coach and elementary school principal, told us that Mel Hoderlein, former big leaguer, would be there. His son, Mel, was playing for Mt. Carmel.

I was 11. Big leaguers were gods.

It was not treated as a big deal when Mr. Hoderlein stepped in to hit a few just before the game, after the teams' pregame infield practice. For me, though, it was total fascination.

He looked human, a regular-looking man, like my own Dad. He smacked a few line drives. He stood in the very spot I would when I would bat that late afternoon, playing, I reminded myself, against the son of a major leaguer. I watched. I saw the easy confidence as he hit one liner after another off the batting practice tosses. I could see he was a pro.

Later, young Mel and I would play together for Amelia High, and Mel would receive a scholarship at The University of Cincinnati. A quarter-century later, I would bump into Melvin at a baseball card show, where he was seeking his Dad's 1954 Bowman cards. Dangerous-looking in biker gear, Mel was, nevertheless, still the same likeable guy I'd known as a teenager.

It was with great sadness that I learned of Mel Sr.'s death from a clipping sent me by my mother. I've lost track of Mel Jr., but I have a set of cards for the 1952 APBA baseball game that includes Mr. Hoderlein as a very capable infielder for the Senators. If I ever see Melvin again, I'll give them to him.

Thanks for letting me tell a little tale from my childhood, when TV games were few and far between and we rarely saw players interviewed. It was a thrill to see Mr. Hoderlein hit a few before our Knothole game at Anstaett Field that summer evening a few years ago.

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