My son and I were fortunate enough to attend the 1988 All Star Game in Cincinnati and mingle  and brunch with the old timers as well as with the stars of the day. This was due to having a business licensed by M.L.B. Properties.

We flew Piedmont Airlines from Newark,NJ to Covington,KY with Gaylord Perry across the aisle from us while Mr. and Mrs. Larry Doby sat right behind us. Wow, did Mr. Doby snore? In time I'll relate some more stuff about our experiences out there in very very hot and humid Cincinnati but right now I'd like to tell you about the National League Manager for the ASG, "Whitey" Herzog.

In the press, that man was being referred to as "The White Rat." Nothing racial of course but rather based on the fact that he had a more or less  platinum colored crew cut. He was made out to be a square-jawed nasty son-of-a-gun, hard to get along with, feisty and crude. Please understand that what I'm writing was not necessarily the opinions of his players but based solely what I had been reading, hearing on the radio and seeing on the tube.

The A.L., under Twins' Manager Tom Kelly, won the game 2-1. I suppose the press would have   good reason  to portray "Whitey" as even nastier than ever. An  ASG manager would not tend to be in a good mood  as a result of losing a game that always captures the attention of fans everywhere.

I and my son were staying at the Omni Netherland Plaza, the lodging also for the Old Timers who were scheduled to play and by the way, Gaylord Perry was one of the starters. The ASG stars were right down the block at the Hyatt Regency. By the way if you might think I was angry over not being lodged with the young stars, think again. When a player of the stature of Gaylord takes a novice like I around to meet and greet players the caliber of Harmon Killebrew, Luke Appling, Ernie Banks and on and on, a guy like I was not disappointed in the least.

Let's skip to the late morning of the day after the night ASG. The Hyatt was jam packed. Everywhere we turned in the lobby we bunked into someone. That's because the players holding suitcases were milling around waiting for their buses for the airport and a jillion fans had entered the lobby seeking autographs. I remember standing there talking to Harry Kalas, the voice of the Phillies and standing outside, alone by the bus stop, was "Whitey" Herzog.

No one dared venture out to ask for an autograph. After all, he was the mean "White Rat." He had lost the game the night before to the A.L. "PEOPLE, STAND CLEAR OR DIE." But I felt a bit defiant. I knew he wouldn't kill me because he still had a year left on his contract with the Cardinals. Why jeapodize it? So out I went to talk to this so-called B...A...A...D dude.

The fans in the Hyatt lobby stood and watched. Some had their noses squashed against the windows. "Would Charlie come back alive?" I walked up to him, gestured for a handshake and by golly, "Whitey" reciprocated. I said, "Too bad about the game, 'Whitey.' You'll get 'em next year." His answer was curt, "you win some, you lose some." I looked around at the front glass of the Hyatt, everyone seemed taken back by "Whitey's" demeanor by not attacking me and then out the revolving front door came this kid, about 11 I guess, wearing a Reds' cap and holding a baseball. My approach gave him encouragement.

"Whitey" looked at him and asked, "what do you want." The kid began stammering. "Mis..mis..mister Herzog. Would you autograph my ball?" Herzog looked right at him and came out with a brusk, "Why should I? You're no Cards fan. You're a Reds fan." So the kid dejectedly looked down and turned to leave. I watched and said nothing. Just then Whitey said to him,"Hey kid. Let me take a look at that ball." So the youngster handed it to him. Whitey looked it over, turned it north to south, east to west and said, "Where's room for me to sign anything? It's filled. Look at the ball kid. I see Steve Garvey, Dave Winfield, David Cone, Ernie Banks and everyone else who's here. If you really wanted me to autograph it, you would have left room."

And so the kid once again had the dejected expression. "Aw Mr. Herzog. I'm sorry I bothered you. Please give me the ball and I'll go away." I thought I saw a tear or two in the kid's eyes but then again, they could have been mine. Suddenly Whitey gently tugged at the bill of the kid's Reds' cap,  whipped out a pen and said  "I'll try to sign right here...right in between Lance Parrish and Orel Hershiser." He signed, gave the kid a smile and off went the little Reds' fan who had "humbled" the "White Rat."

I thanked Whitey for being so nice to the fellow and just then, the bus arrived to take the Cards to the airport. Whitey got into it and as I turned around, I bunked into Cards' hurler Todd Worrell. I said, "Todd, like hell he's a white rat. In no way does he deserve such a name" to which he replied, "Heck, I could have told you that, right at the outset."