Iron Man, Human Heart
On Sunday, August 4th, 1991 the Chicago White Sox hosted the Baltimore Orioles at Comiskey Park. The White Sox stood near the top of their division, winning eight straight games with a chance to take the pennant. The Orioles would clearly miss the playoffs again. Another woeful season filled with disappointment for the O’s. This did not dampen the anticipation of young Charlie Jenkins.
Charlie counted every mile marker in his excitement and it was a relief for Jerry when they finally made it to Chicago. As they drove into the city on I-80, the skyline jutted out from a universal horizon of flatlands with the Sear’s Tower looking down, imperiously, on all the other buildings.
Charlie had recently taken an interest in the Orioles’ star shortstop, Cal Ripken, Jr. He already had a few pages of cards in his binder and brought the prize of his meager collection, a 1981 Topps rookie card. He didn’t expect an autograph because they had seats up in the nose-bleeds. However, Jerry suggested that he bring it, just in case.
Charlie thought there was something special about Cal. For nine years, he hadn’t missed a day. They called him the Iron Man.
For Charlie, he represented a certain kind of value. Charlie couldn’t explain it but he admired his persistence, endurance, and above all, loyalty. Charlie admired Cal’s grit.
It was a cool and blustery day but the sky was clear. Charlie and Jerry found their seats near the railing of the upper deck. They had a good view with easy access to concessions. Charlie got a hot dog and a pop and Jerry had nachos and a tall plastic cup of beer. It was a great day for a ballgame.
The Hall of Famer, Mike Mussina, made his auspicious major league debut for the Orioles, allowing four hits through seven innings.
The White Sox had the 43-year-old knuckleballer, Charlie Hough, on the mound and he relentlessly frustrated the Orioles.
Charlie got worked up through Cal’s struggles at the plate and consoled him from the upper deck to no avail.
In the bottom of the 6th, Mike Mussina left a pitch hanging for Frank Thomas and he smashed a solo shot to left-center field.
During the 7th inning stretch, many fans left to beat the traffic. The ushers had taken a laissez-faire approach to checking tickets so Jerry snuck them closer to the field. They found a couple of empty seats several rows behind the Orioles dugout and caught the White Sox batting.
Charlie’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Before him was the legendary Cal Ripken, Jr. Charlie watched in rapt attention as Cal meandered around the shortstop position, shouting encouragement and directions to his teammates.
After two fly-outs, the White Sox hit a line drive towards shortstop but Cal watched it sail over his head into left field. Cal hadn’t done much today but Charlie’s enthusiasm didn’t dwindle.
In the top of the eighth, the Orioles got a rally going. Charlie persevered in his lone support, shouting, ‘Go O’s!, Let’s Go O’s!!’’, as loudly as he could. The remaining Chicagoans gave him dubious looks.
The leadoff batter singled down the first baseline and moved to second on a sacrifice bunt.
Charlie watched Cal enter the on-deck circle and take a few practice swings. The next batter walked.
Cal came to the plate with two men on and a runner in scoring position. Charlie had dreamt of this moment.
Cal had a chance to tie the game, or even win it!
Cal watched the first pitch go by. Ball one.
‘Good eye!’ Charlie clapped and praised Cal from his seat.
On the next pitch, Cal swung. Crack! The ball flew straight to center field.
Charlie nearly fell over as he leaned onto the edge of his seat. He watched the line drive sail into the centerfielder’s glove.
Charlie threw his hands in the air. Cal jogged off the field shaking his head and feeling disappointed in his efforts today. He just couldn’t calculate Hough’s knuckler.
Yet, there was still a chance to win when Hough threw a wild pitch, and both runners advanced.
On the next pitch, the cleanup batter hit a hard line drive straight at the mound. Hough with a slight lean lifted his glove and caught it with an effortless pop.
That was the end for the Orioles. The last inning came and went. Charlie was alone in cheering on the Orioles that Sunday afternoon in the South Side of Chicago, but he didn’t care.
Charlie had barely blinked those last two innings. Cal was fielding, he batted, he was real! It didn’t matter how the game went. Charlie remained enthralled till the end.
The fans began coalescing around the dugout and Charlie hoped to get down to the field. He would only have one chance to get a personalized autograph from Cal Ripken, Jr.
Charlie pulled the card from his jean shorts, Jerry gave him a pen, and he darted down to the dugout. A crowd had assembled but Charlie quickly maneuvered his way to the front.
With his head protruding just over the top of the dugout, Charlie watched as the players left the field. Charlie could not believe that he was so close to greatness.
Cal and the other O’s trotted towards Charlie and the autograph seekers.
The young fans all clamored ‘Cal! Hey Cal, can I have your autograph!’ but Charlie wanted to show Mr. Ripken the respect he deserved. However, he got flustered as the players approached, his face flushed crimson, and his emotions erupted.
‘Mr. Riiipkeeeen!’ Charlie shouted and spluttered. ‘Mr. Riipkeeen. Sign my baseball card!’ Spittle sprayed from the gap of his missing two front teeth. Just being there turned his face redder. ‘Mr. Riipkeeeen! Mr. Riipkeen! Sign my baseball card, pleeease!’
Cal almost stopped to oblige the fans but made a beeline to the locker room after glancing in Charlie’s direction.
Once the players exited, the remaining disappointed fans dispersed. Charlie stood at the edge of the field, sweat running down his curly red hair, his card and pen still in hand.
Excitement always overwhelmed Charlie, and he knew he had missed his one opportunity. Cal had just jogged by, merely giving a sidelong glance and briefly making eye contact with Charlie.
For a moment, Charlie felt embarrassed by his pleas for an autograph. Charlie buried the thought. Surely, Cal didn’t notice him. He couldn’t have.
Cal did notice. However, Cal had an inexplicable aversion toward that screaming ruddy face.
Cal had done nothing in the game and yet was being admired. Cal was an All-Star on a losing ballclub. Everyone expected him to carry this team and be a role model, an idol. It’s a large burden for any man and Cal couldn’t be this kid’s hero, at least not on this day.
***
Charlie, meanwhile, left the game convinced he had seen one of the greatest men that ever existed. Charlie threw himself into collecting Ripken cards. He was all in on Cal.
He gathered everything he could from his boxes of cards and put them into burgeoning binders. Soon he had filled several pages. He traded his friends for more. In Little League, he changed his number to 8. There was no looking back.
Charlie had a single-minded devotion to his collection and Cal Ripken.
Cal Ripken’s attributes of loyalty and grit underpinned much of young Charlie’s developing ethos.
It was an odd thing to be an Orioles fan in the middle of Illinois but nothing could dampen Charlie’s adulation for Cal. He wore his Orioles hat proudly and nobody understood.
Charlie supported the Orioles through their struggles. There was hope in ’94 but the Strike prematurely ended the season in early August. Charlie felt uncertain that Cal would ever get another chance at a championship. Sisyphus had an easier task than Cal.
Charlie was always on the lookout for Ripkens that he didn’t have yet. He dragged his parents to card shows throughout the greater central Illinois area: St. Louis, Peoria, and the Quad Cities. Charlie’s bedroom became a shrine to Cal with posters on the walls and memorabilia lining the shelves.
He moved his collection to plastic cases to protect the integrity of the cards. Soon the cards filled up box after box. Charlie’s loyalty bordered on the point of obsession.
Charlie felt compelled to acquire more obscure cards. Occasionally, he would find bargains but collecting became increasingly expensive and difficult. He lacked the funds to be a serious collector and felt restricted in his devotion to Cal.
As luck would have it, a card shop opened across the railroad tracks from Charlie’s house. Charlie hung around long enough to get some work sorting cards and tidying up the display cases. In return, Charlie took his pay in cards and used the opportunity to expand his Ripken collection. His fixation never faded. However, the problem with a collection is that it is never complete.
Charlie accumulated hundreds of cards: Topps, Fleer, Donruss, Upper Deck, Pinnacle, and all variations of those brands. Charlie had special series cards too, like the Denny’s hologram card. Charlie wanted them all.
Charlie organized his collection and cataloged them on the computer. Every now and again, he would lay them out on the floor to take inventory. The cards covered every square inch of the living room. He could see the entire career of Cal Ripken, Jr. spread out before him.
Still, nothing would complete the collection until Charlie had an autograph.
Ever since that day at Comiskey Park, Charlie felt personally connected to Cal. An autograph from a card show wouldn’t be enough for him; he didn’t want memorabilia. Charlie had even written to Mr. Ripken but only got a form letter back and a new card to add to his collection.
Whenever he reflected on that moment in Chicago, he remembered a look of awkwardness on Cal’s face as their eyes met before he turned towards the lockers. His overexcitement had cost him what he wanted most.
The thought occasionally came near the surface of his subconscious but he would never let himself admit it. Charlie would shake the idea off every time it cropped up.
Charlie felt that destiny would bring him and Cal together again and he would remain composed. He would ask him politely for an autograph and they would chat for a minute. Charlie would just want to share his appreciation for Mr. Ripken and his astounding career.
Charlie watched in awe on September 6th, 1995 as Cal broke the unbreakable streak. Charlie had recorded the game and often replayed the 10-minute standing ovation. Charlie would tear up every time Cal made that circle around Camden Yards. The Iron Man had fulfilled his legend. Through 2031 consecutive games Cal held his resolve, which is longer than most marriages.
Charlie couldn’t be prouder to be a fan. He felt the achievement was a vindication of his own loyalty. For years afterward, he would tell anyone that would listen that Cal had saved baseball after the strike. He was always met with incredulous looks. Still, he insisted.
In ’96 the O’s finally made the playoffs. Charlie cried along with Cal as he drank champagne and relished his return to the playoffs after 13 years. Cal’s fidelity finally paid off.
The Orioles defeated the Indians in four games and were four wins away from the World Series but first, they had to get through the New York Yankees. The O’s split the first two games at Yankee Stadium and Charlie hoped for a miracle. The Orioles collapsed in the next three games at Camden Yards, with Cal grounding out to end all chances at the World Series.
The Orioles had one more strong season in 1997 but then fell back to the middle of their division. The talent on the team left for better pay and championship opportunities. The O’s had missed their window, but Cal and Charlie remained dutiful.
The years passed. Cal eventually retired, and the card shop moved. Without Cal, what would Charlie collect? The collection was complete but incomplete. His interests drifted as he became an adult. Yet, he continued to sport an Orioles hat.
When asked how the Orioles were doing he would always respond enigmatically. ‘We’ll get ’em next year.’
***
Years later, Charlie had gotten a job at the U.S. Embassy in Prague and had a second chance at his dream. Cal Ripken, Jr. would be visiting!
The Iron Man had long since retired and became an official ambassador for baseball. Cal Ripken, Jr. fit the role perfectly. Charlie felt a sense of kismet.
That evening, Charlie would get to tell his hero how much he admired him. He had rehearsed this moment in his mind a thousand times.
Charlie had to stay cool. He had his card ready, a 1981 Topps rookie card.
No matter where Charlie lived in the world, he always had that card. To Charlie, it was more than a card, it portrayed greatness, a legend.
The embassy staff milled around the bar waiting for the event to start. In the front of the room, the U.S. ambassador socialized with a few dignitaries.
Charlie stood off to the side and chatted with a colleague.
Cal came in and was led to the front of the room to meet with the ambassador and other dignitaries. After sharing a few pleasantries, Cal got a beer and began mingling around the room. Cal met with the staff and signed autographs. Cal was coming towards Charlie and his colleague.
Cal introduced himself to Charlie’s colleague and Charlie got his card and pen ready.
Charlie took a deep breath.
He had spent his childhood dreaming of this meeting.
Charlie swallowed hard and tried to gain mastery over his nerves.
Cal Ripken, Jr. now stood in front of Charlie Jenkins and extended his hand. Charlie froze as he looked into Cal’s steely blue eyes. He felt overwhelmed again. He was transported back to that day in Comiskey Park.
He took Cal’s hand and shook it while continuing to stare into his eyes. Cal introduced himself but Charlie couldn’t say anything. The words were stuck in his throat for what seemed like an eternity. Charlie got flustered and was suddenly flushed in the face.
Charlie realized that they were still shaking hands and it was getting to the point of being beyond awkward. He let go of Cal’s hand, took a step back, and shouted, ‘Mr. Riipkeen! Mr. Ripkeeen! Will you sign my baseball card, pleeease!’ Charlie thrust the card and pen at the great Iron Man with a shaky left hand.
Charlie’s face was crimson. It was deja vu.
Cal recoiled from the memory and the aversion he felt toward that boy. Charlie Hough’s knuckleball and that game came rushing back. He thought he had put it behind him, but he remembered it all so clearly.
Cal couldn’t mistake that face from August 4th, 1991.
The Iron Man was shaken by the resurgence of this memory. For Cal, that face represented his worst side. Cal had a human moment of weakness all those years ago when he neglected this kid and failed to give him an autograph. That is not how a goodwill ambassador should act.
Cal’s thoughts were disordered. All that passed through his mind was ‘Mr. Riipkeeeen! Mr. Riipkeen! Sign my baseball card, pleeease!’
That was a lifetime ago; yet here the boy was, all grown up.
Cal Ripken, Jr. maintained his composure and with a smile said, ‘You’re a big fan, aren’t you?’
Charlie, regaining himself and some of his normal color, said, ‘Oh, yes, sir. For years. Me and my dad saw you play once back at Comiskey Park. You’re just…just…an inspiration, sir.’
Cal smiled. He had avoided this kid once. This time, being the class act that he is, Cal signed the card.
Cal felt he had to make amends for all those years ago.
‘I didn’t get your name.’ Cal asked, politely handing him back the card and hoping to avoid a lengthy encounter.
Charlie swallowed and managed to say, ‘Charlie, sir.’
Cal patted Charlie’s left shoulder and said, ‘It was nice to meet such a big fan as you, Charlie,’ they smiled at each other, ‘but I’ve got to…’ He pointed vaguely over his shoulder to a crowd on the other side of the room.
‘Oh, yes. Of course. I understand.’ Charlie sputtered. They parted without any further awkwardness.
Cal had nearly extricated himself when he heard Charlie shout ‘Go O’s!’ from across the room. Cal turned and gave him a charming smile with a thumbs up and a wink.
Cal made it to the other side and shook hands with the group. He gave one last glance in Charlie’s direction. Charlie’s face beamed as he looked at the card. Cal felt he rectified something tonight. He took a satisfying drink and continued his conversation.
It was the best moment of Charlie’s life. He got his autograph at long last. His collection was complete.
As he slid the newly autographed card back into the protective plastic case, Charlie turned to his co-worker and said, ‘What a wonderful man that Cal Ripken is.’
