Since the Royals are in the World Series for the first time since 1985, it’s time to share again my chance encounter in about 1989 with Royals Hall of Famer George Brett at the old now demolished Stroud’s road house in KC, MO.
To be honest, I didn’t know who George was but my husband filled me in after spotting him waiting in a crowd alongside us mere mortals for a table at Stroud’s (where the fried chicken was so good people were willing to wait for hours to eat it since the old place didn’t take reservations. Nor does the newer Stroud’s.)
Brett, for the uninitiated, was Kansas City’s best ever player (my husband reminds me of this today) and a key factor in the Royals last World Series win (in 1985.) So we were sitting next to a little boy, about age 8, who was staring at George in amazement. Awestruck. His mom was encouraging him to ask George for his autograph but the kid couldn’t do it. (In this day and age, he’d be asking George to take a selfie with him.) So I said I’d ask George and sidled over to where George was talking to several attractive blond women. He seemed uninspired when I mentioned the little awestruck boy and didn’t provide an autograph. “Jerk,” I thought as I returned to the kid empty handed.
But a short time later, as the little boy and mom were being led to their table, the boy left his jacket behind on his seat by mistake. “Son. hey son,” George called out to him. “Here’s your jacket.” And he handed it to him. The boy looked like he’d won the lottery. “Not a jerk,” I thought, revising my opinion of George Brett.