96 CARDINALS MAGAZINE @CardsMagazine
(Mickey) Mantle – the Cardinals, aka the Redbirds, are my favorite.”
Among many things he discovered that day: Cardinals shortstop
Dick Groat was bald! After the game, Keith found himself in the
Cardinals clubhouse meeting a man who had played on a Navy
baseball team with his father when they were stationed in Hawaii
in 1945 during World War II. Somebody named Stan Musial, who
now was playing the last of his 22 years in the big leagues.
“I’m sitting on a stool next to Mr. Musial,” Hernandez writes,
“when I see Ken Boyer, the Cardinals’ star third baseman and
my future manager, both in the minor leagues and later with the
Cardinals. He, more than any other manager, will help me find my
way. Of course, I don’t know of that last bit and neither does he.
I’m just a kid whose legs barely reach the floor, sitting on that stool.
And he’s just a young, famous baseball player, one year away from an
MVP season. ...
“He looks at me and says, ‘Hi,’ and I say, ‘Hi,’ and he tousles my hair.
“Yeah, I’ll never forget that.”
Hernandez also shares an encounter with 1937 Triple Crown winner
Medwick, who in 1972 was the organization’s minor league batting
instructor and witnessed a fit Keith threw while playing in the Florida
State League that year. Medwick, he writes, was a hard-nosed guy who
was honest in both his criticisms and praises, telling Hernandez, “you
gotta quit this tantrum business and remember that the good hitters hit
more balls hard right at people than they hit
bloopers or bleeders. It’s just part of the game.”
That October, while playing in the Florida Instructional League,
Hernandez soaked in wisdom from Kissell, the fundamentals guru
who served in the organization for 66 years and was a coach on the
major league staff at the time. He’d been called to St. Pete to address
the instructional club after it got off to a lackluster start.
“His love for the game was contagious; his knowledge of all things
baseball, including its finer points – like baserunning, rundowns and
relays – was unquestionable,” Hernandez writes. “These weren’t just
different ‘aspects’ of the game to Kissell, they were art forms, and his
passion to instruct us in each of them was inspiring.”
The following year, when Hernandez was struggling at Double-A
Arkansas, farm director Kennedy opted to promote him to Triple-A
Tulsa, where he batted .333 in 31 games. It was a decision Hernandez
credits with saving his career, at that juncture, even if it was
unexpected. He asked Kennedy why he was sent up instead of down.
“Kennedy looked at me with a serious gaze – Bob was a man who
seldom laughed while in uniform – and said, “Keith, I knew if I left
you in Little Rock, you might have hit .230 and been done. If I sent
you down, it could have destroyed your confidence and you would
have been done. So I took a chance because I knew you had the talent.”
As the book’s “Bricks and Mortar” section comes to a close,GROWING UP A CARDINAL
Through constant drills and coaching from his father, Hernandez
caught on early that defense could take him far. In his 17-season
career, he snagged 11 Gold Gloves – a record for first basemen.A starstruck 9-year-old when he first met Ken Boyer the player, Hernandez
leaned on him later as the manager who’d help him find his way.