Francona: The Red Sox Years Read Online Free Page A

and when I told my dad, ‘That guy has the greatest breaking ball I’ve ever seen,’ that’s when my dad figured out that I was really paying attention.”
    In Atlanta he introduced himself to Joe Torre, the hot-hitting catcher who always had a five-o’clock shadow by lunchtime. Years later, when Francona and Torre were the two managers in the greatest rivalry in the sport, Torre would break the ice at the beginning of every series by greeting Francona with a handshake and the question, “How’s your dad?”
    The final year of Tito Francona’s career was one of the best years of Terry’s life. Tito went to spring training in Mesa with the Oakland A’s, and Birdie came out with the kids for a three-week vacation. Terry was ten. It was hardball heaven in the Arizona desert. He got to be batboy every day, hanging around with Sal Bando and pitcher Al Downing. He played catch with a sculpted young outfielder named Reggie Jackson, who’d been a star at Arizona State. He took a road trip with the team on a day when his dad stayed back in Mesa. Tito had to have his knee drained and was scheduled to play in a B game. At the road game with the big leaguers, Little Tito spilled a bunch of pine tar in the middle of the game and was too embarrassed to tell anybody. He rode back home to Mesa with super-sticky fingers.
    Most of the time he was comfortable around the big league ballplayers, comfortable enough to gawk at Rick Monday’s attractive young wife and tell the outfielder, “You’re my idol.”
    To this day, when Monday sees Terry Francona, he laughs and says, “You’re my idol!”
    “Rick says he doesn’t even remember me doing that, but I told him, ‘That’s my story and I’m sticking to it,’” said Francona.
    Little Tito got an authentic green satin Oakland A’s jacket for Christmas in 1969. He wore it to school every day.
    “It was the best present I ever got,” said Terry Francona.
    When Tito was traded to the Milwaukee Brewers early in the 1970 season, it worked out well for his only son. Milwaukee wasn’t as hot and humid as St. Louis and Atlanta, and the Brewers in those days played in the American League, which opened up a new world of teams for Terry. Plus, he was finally old enough to go to the ballpark with his dad every day. Brewers manager Dave Bristol didn’t like kids hanging around the clubhouse, but this was Tito’s last gasp in the bigs, so nobody complained about the 11-year-old boy. Downing helped Terry hide from Bristol. The kid shagged fly balls with the big leaguers while the Brewers were taking batting practice. When the visitors took their turn in the cage, Little Tito went up into the stands to snag foul balls with the fans. After batting practice, Little Tito would make one more visit to the clubhouse to line his pockets with candy bars—like a rube traveler stuffing his luggage with the contents of a big-city hotel minibar. Major league clubhouses are well stocked with all forms of sweets, snacks, and beverages. Ballplayers support this bounty in the form of tips to the clubhouse workers, but it looks like free stuff to an 11-year-old, and Tito Francona never said a word about Little Tito raiding the candy rack. He took care of the clubbies when his boy wasn’t around. Years later, Terry Francona’s generosity toward the clubbies would become well known inside big league clubhouses.
    In late July 1970, the Washington Senators, managed by Ted Williams, came to County Stadium. Two months away from retirement, Tito Francona made sure his only son didn’t miss an opportunity to meet baseball’s last .400 hitter. “Teddy Ballgame” had taken time to meet with rookie Tito Francona when Terry’s dad made his big league debut in the spring of 1956. A mutual friend asked Williams to visit with the young Orioles outfielder, and when the kid from western Pennsylvania walked into the visitors’ dugout at Fenway before his first big league game, the “Splendid Splinter” was