Finding Yogi

Back in 2004 when our school district had a mid-March winter break, our family did something unusual, at least for us.  We split up.  My husband went north to ski with our older son while I went south to Spring Training in Florida with our younger, baseball-loving 13-year old son.  It was a success from everyone’s point of view.  

We stayed at the Radisson Bay Harbor Hotel in Tampa, which is where many of the Yankee players who don’t have their own homes down there stay.  Plus, many of the old-timers who come to spring training stay there.  We had a row of bright white baseballs in boxes waiting to be signed.  Like everyone else, we were hoping for some big names too.

In addition to a day at Busch Gardens and a day trip to Sanibel Island, we went to a total of four baseball games during the week. Two of them were at Legends Field in Tampa, and the away games were in Clearwater and St. Petersburg.  Yankee autographs were difficult to come by, but the other teams were more generous with the ink.

Legends Field, Tampa, Florida

Yankee John Flaherty, one of the more generous players, signing for Kevin

Back at our hotel was really the time to be scouting around for autographs though.  Whether we were at the pool, the restaurant, or in the hotel lobby, there were many people coming and going.   We were always on the lookout with new balls and a felt tip in hand.  We knew that many of the old-timers, including Yogi Berra, were staying at the hotel.  Although we hoped for good luck and good timing, the week went by without running into Yogi.  

On our last day, we were in the hotel gift shop killing time after breakfast.  I decided to go up to our room to do the last bit of packing.  Our son said he would be up in a few minutes.   Five minutes later he was frantically beating at our door.  “Mom, I think Yogi is in the gift shop!”  he struggled to get out.

I grabbed a new ball and a felt tip pen and I think I locked our door behind us.  By the time we got back to the gift shop, as you might guess, no one was there.  We walked out to the lobby and must have had that ‘I just missed Yogi’ look on our face.  A nice man asked us if we were looking for Yogi Berra.  He told us he just went down the hall into the restaurant.  Ah! There was still hope.

Lest you think we would stalk him while he was eating his scrambled eggs, my quickly formed plan was to go upstairs and get the luggage, while our son remained vigilant in the lobby waiting for Yogi to finish his breakfast. 

After 45 minutes, it was clear that we were going to miss the chance.  We had to leave for the airport to make our flight.  I went out to the parking lot and pulled the rental car up front.  When I came back in the lobby, I saw our son talking to Yogi and signing a ball!  I could barely act quickly enough.  I pulled out my Nikon and asked if I could take a photo of the two of them together.  He said yes and posed.  After I took the photo, his wife Carmen, went up to him, brushed his arm, and told him to take another one and to smile this time.  Needless to say, in the second shot, he was smiling.  The question is whether he was smiling because she reminded him to smile, or whether he was smiling because she was ‘bossing’ him around.  Either way, we got the shot of a lifetime.

Shot #2

We couldn’t believe our luck.  We spent a whole week in the hotel, going to games, and scouting the perimeter.  Then in the last 60 seconds of our stay at the hotel, we get the autograph and a photo.  As Yogi says, ‘The game isn’t over until it’s over.’

Sunset near Tampa, Florida