The third man in the group was stocky and balding and his temples were gray. When you’re 9, you have a terrible concept of age. You think of anyone who doesn’t go out for Halloween anymore as old. With that, I must confess I thought the balding man was the trainer. But trying to be polite, I asked him if he’d sign as well.
The man was gracious and completely untroubled. He smiled and said he’d be happy to sign my ball.
It sure as hell wasn’t Cesar Tovar.