The second night of Shauvos, we accepted an invitation to dinner. I'm not crazy about going out at night, as the meals run late and it's hard for the kids to walk home.
Our host is also my son's Boy Scout troop leader, and his parents were there as well. I got to talking to his mother, and I'm not sure how we got on the subject of baseball, but we both agreed that it was a boring game that doesn't seem to end. Then our host's mother told me a story.
Many years ago, she took some boys from a Boy Scout troop, including one of her sons, to a Dodger's game. Not only was it boring, but the team's pitcher actually pitched a no-hitter. She found out later that the pitcher was none other than Sandy Koufax.
My mouth fell open. "T-h-e Sandy Koufax?" I asked. Possibly the greatest pitcher ever? The man who refused to pitch a play-off game because it was Yom Kippur?
I ran and found my host, who was helping prepare food in the kitchen. "You saw Sandy Koufax pitch?" I asked. He looked at me like I had just brought proof of Big Foot's existence and said, "what?"
"Your mother took one of her sons to a baseball game pitched by Sandy Koufax. Was it you?"
Surprisingly, it was the first he had ever heard of his mother, or any member of his family, attending a baseball game pitched by Sandy Koufax. He dashed from the kitchen into the dining room and asked her about it.
"Oh, maybe it was one of your brothers," was all she said. Nothing more. My host and I exchanged glances of disbelief.
I brought up her watching Sandy Koufax pitch to a few other people that night, and all were equally impressed. But not my host's mom. She took it in stride. Frankly, her lack of excitement at something so exciting was the most impressive thing of all.