Since Carl Erskine's passing a couple of weeks ago, many campers have reached out privately to share their memories of Carl.
In gratitude to those campers, and in appreciation for the way he impacted my life, I hope you'll indulge me as I share a memory or two.
I was barely eight when my grandfather treated me to the Dodgers' 1958 home opener against the Giants at the LA Coliseum. That was the first time I watched Carl pitch.
41 years later I had the even bigger treat of meeting him in person.
It was 1999 and I was a fantasy camp rookie. I was going through the first day workouts and it was my turn in the strings area at Dodgertown.
Carl and Clem Labine talked about pitching and we started to warm up.
Carl, Clem and Jerry Reuss were huddled together making notes on us rookies. They watched each of us throw in turn, and, as they came to me, I suddenly realized that I was as nervous as if it were my first Little League tryout.
They're standing behind me now and I can hear their comments . . .
"Here's one."
"Good form."
"We can use him."
Then Carl steps up on the mound right behind me and whispers into my ear "That's enough kid. Save those pitches. We'll need them in games and it's a long week."
I nodded or maybe said, "Sure thing Coach."
I can't remember exactly, but I absolutely remember the feeling.
That Little League nervousness was gone and, instead, I experienced that feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be.
My first fantasy camp was life-changing, thanks in no small part to Carl.
Instruction, games, especially the Camper-Instructor game. Carl playing the National Anthem, getting to play against former pros and then rooting for Jimmy Erskine as he ran the bases after the last out.
At the Western BBQ/Talent night that year, Carl played the harmonica with Reggie Smith accompanying him on the drums.
What was that tune he always played . . . you know, the one with the train whistle?
Carl was such an integral part of my camp experience. He made me feel welcome and part of something I never knew I needed.
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