Your Memories

If you have a personal memory of Ted Williams for inclusion here, simply email it to me at tedwilliams@geocities.com.  I reserve the right to edit for space and readability.

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"He went out with a flash of brilliance."
Peter Eliades (cyclese@earthlink.net)

In the late 40s I was a very young obssessed Red Sox Fan but my favorite Red Soxer was Vern "Junior" Stephens and in my young naivete I disliked The Kid. It didn't last long though. I soon became knowledgeable enough about the game to see what a rare commodity "The Splendid Splinter" was.

The most unforgettable memory of Ted was in the Fall of 1960. I was a Freshman at B.U. Law School and my brother Chris was a Junior at Tufts Medical School. It was the day of Ted's last ball game and I had a class that afternoon. I agonized over the decision about going to the game and finally decided to do both, leaving class when it was over and rushing off to Fenway. I arrived around the 7th inning and walked in free because they opened the gates around the 7th or 8th inning. I rushed into the bleachers hoping I'd get a chance to see Teddy on his very last Fenway appearance. It was a pretty Fall day but there were only around 10,000 fans at the Park that day. I hustled into the right field area of the bleachers where my fantasy told me Ted would greet me with a patented Williams strong looping homer. I should not have been amazed, but I was, to see my brother Chris exactly where I headed in the right field bleachers. He told me Williams had hit a long drive into right field but he did not have a hit -- not yet anyway.

My timing was almost perfect. Within 20 minutes of my arrival, Teddy came to bat in the bottom of the 8th. Someone wrote in a book about Teddy that in future years probably 500,000 fans would claim they were at his final Fenway appearance, although there was a small crowd that day. It also seemed like 500,000 fans stood in unison and yelled and screamed their hearts out as Ted approached the plate. The ovation probably lasted no longer than a minute or two although it seemed a lot longer because of its intensity. We were all saying thank You Ted. Thank you for making our childhoods a lot richer, thank you for the thrills you provided with that inimitable and liquid Williams swing. Thank you for staying around long enough to thrill me through grammar school, high school, college, and now graduate school. Thank you for teaching us all that there is an almost sure-fire way to succeed in any endeavor. Work your tushie off to improve yourself and when you get better than anyone else, go out and work some more.

All of us there that day knew why we were there. The script called for Teddy to leave baseball with a magical memory, a home run on his very last at bat. My brother and I looked at each other and knew we were asking the impossible. You could almost feel the hearts of the bleacherites pounding in anticipation.

You knew the moment you heard the crack of the bat meeting the ball that this was out of the "pahk." This time the crowd didn't stop the ovation for several minutes. It had to be one of the most thrilling moments in sports, and even though it had nothing to do with winning or losing a game, much less a championship game, it had to do with what sports is truly all about -- an enrichment of the human spirit by challenging man to do all that he or she can do.

His career ended in Boston in the only way allowed by "the gods." He went out with a flash of brilliance. Thank you Teddy!! Thank you, Thank you!!!!


"I...remember my father...saying, 'Now pay attention'..."
Ward McCarthy (GlorNaMara@aol.com)

I was nine years old when Ted Williams retired. The Sox were a horrendous team back in those days, but I have been a fan for as long as I can remember. I suspect my attention span was a tad short at the age of nine because I can remember my father putting his arm around me and saying, "Now pay attention" as Ted came up for what turned out to be his last at-bat. Thanks to Ted and my father, I got to see his last home run. Even though I now live in New Jersey, my kids are all Sox fans. We usually make a pilgimage to the Mecca of baseball during the summer. At this point in my life, I am not sure that I want to see the Sox win the Series because I would miss looking forward to it happening.


"[M]any thanks to Ted Williams for making a couple of old timers feel important."
Charles Lentine (Charles Lentine-1@sbphrd.com)

My wife and I were at one of the Casinos in Atlantic City a few years back and we saw Mr. Williams going through the hotel lobby. My wife approached Mr. Williams and asked if she could have me take a picture of Mr. Williams and her. He pleasantly agreed and I snapped the photo, and when I returned home I had the photo developed and enlarged and sent it to Mr. Williams at his Florida address. In a matter of a few days later, my wife and I were greatly surprised when a signed photo was returned in the mail. Again many thanks to Ted Williams for making a couple of old timers feel important.


"I still think of him as 'Mr. Williams'"
Bob Wildman (bwildman@connectnet.com)

I lived in Newton, MA just after the War. I was a kid of six or seven and remember the guy in the new baby blue "Caddie" convertible from the same town. He would take kids to the ball park while they hitch-hiked along Route 9. I was, of course, too young to be out there with my thumb out.

I remember my curiosity with the way he was dealt with by the press. I knew he was a lot different than they said in the paper and on the radio. My Dad said part of it was the fact that he had been divorced -- nobody did that back then. Didn't he spend a lot of time and money with the Jimmy Fund that helped a lot of local kids? But, you know, he did spit at the press box. The response was to label him "The Splendid Spitter." I knew better when I was seven.

I guess my beliefs have been vindicated. He was always a true professional who cared about the fans. I still think of him as "Mr. Williams," somebody who played the game with flair and incredible ability, who gave up six of his prime years to flying with the Marines without complaining, who cared for kids and his status as a role model.

Hats off to Mr. Williams. He's the greatest hitter of all time, but more importantly, a fine human being. Thanks Ted.


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