Denny, Pop, and the 1950 World Series
The Game: The date is Saturday, October 7, 1950 and Pop (age 35) and Denny (age 10) are on their way to the World Series in Yankee Stadium. They can’t remember where the tickets came from but my guess is they were provided by someone at Kerby Saunders, Inc. The temperature is in the mid 60s with some high clouds; a perfect day for a ball game. The first pitch is scheduled for 2:05 PM and 68,098 fans wait anxiously for the fourth game of the fall classic to get underway. The Yankees have won the first three games versus the Phillies and want to the close out the series. The Yankees start Whitey Ford who is a little known rookie who was called up mid-year and has nine wins during the regular season. The Phillies counter with Bob Miller who has 11 wins in his first full season in the majors and finishes second in the Rookie of the Year balloting for the National League. The Yankees are loaded with future hall of famers: Manager Casey Stengel, Yogi Berra, Whitey, Johnny Mize, Phil Rizzuto, and the great Joe DiMaggio. The Phillies are known as the “Whiz Kids” because they are young and very confident. Philly teammates Robin Roberts and Richie Ashburn would also be inducted into the Hall of Fame. Announcing the game that day was Dizzy Dean the great pitcher for the Cardinals who would also be inducted into the Hall three years later.
The Story: Pop and Denny are on Rt. 17 in Teteboro at a traffic light looking at their tickets when a big Cadillac pulls up next to them. Inside are two well dressed men who see that Pop and Denny have tickets for the game. One man leans out the window and confirms with Pop that they are headed to the game. Then he asks “Why don’t you guys park your car and come to the game with us?”. Hard to imagine such an offer in 2014 but this was 1950. They pulled the car over, parked in a gas station and hopped in the Caddy. The gentlemen were both attorneys for several of the Yankees and suggested that Denny and Pop meet them at the locker room door following game so they could meet the team. As Pop says below “We were speechless”.
The Yankees shut down a ninth inning rally and win the game five to two and sweep the series in four games. Denny and Pop head to the locker room as agreed, knock on the door, and wait…and wait..and wait. Now they are starting to think not only will they not be meeting the Yankees but they also don’t have a ride back to Jersey. Finally the door opens, the attorneys appear and they are ushered into the locker room. Some players have left but most are there and celebrating raucously. Pop rips off a piece of a cardboard box and Denny starts making the rounds to get autographs. He gets: Johnny Mize, Casey Stengel, Phil Rizzuto. Yogi, Joe Di, Gene Woodling, Cliff Mapes, Tommy Ferrick, Billy Martin, and announcer Dizzy Dean. But one autograph he doesn’t get is Whitey Fords, but more on that later. Not much is remembered about the ride back to the gas station and the drive home but in Denny’s possession are the autographs of the world champion NY Yankees. Not a bad day for a 10 year old baseball fan. Years later the autographs were framed and hang in Denny’s home office today.
Though I was only one at the time and clearly not involved I’ve been telling this story since I was a kid. I try to imagine how excited Denny must have been and how good Pop felt about such a great day with his oldest son. My guess is he was probably pretty happy as well to have an afternoon off and leave the other six kids at home. (I didn’t forget Barb as she arrived a year later.)
The Epilogue: So, back to Whitey Ford. In 2005, 55 years after the series game is played, Ricoh is conducting a national meeting in Las Vegas and we hired three former/current professional athletes to host a dinner and sit with our largest customers. Rod Gilbert, Freddy Couples, and Whitey Ford are all on hand. I am one of three guys chosen to co-host with our celebrity athletes and I successfully lobby for Whitey. We are seated, introductions are made and the dinner is served. The discussion is fluid and the wine is flowing. As we conclude dinner I see my opportunity and tell the 1950 World Series story. I have everyone’s undivided attention and conclude with the fact the one of the few autographs Denny didn’t get that day was Whitey’s. I produce the letter Pop wrote describing what happened that day and ask Whitey to sign it. Whitey looks at me and says “Sure, but it will cost you $100″. The thing is he doesn’t seem to be joking and we now have total silence at the table. I know we paid Whitey $10,000 and all expenses to show up and have dinner but I also know he can be a little prickly about signing his autograph. I hesitate, then take a chance. I look at Whitey and say “I’m really hoping two things are gonna happen right now. One, you are going to sign this autograph for my dad and my brother and two, I’m not gonna pay you $100.” Whitey looks at me a moment longer then cracks a smile and asks me to give him the letter. Phew! He was messing with me! Anyway, here is what he wrote:
Whitey and yours truly. He’s wearing a world series ring which I like to think is was from 1950.Dad’s Letter: Below is a letter Pop wrote in the mid 1990s at Denny’s request to document, as best he could, what happened. Whitey’s note is at the bottom of page 2. This letter resides in an envelope taped to the back of the frame holding the autographs. Enjoy:
1950 World Series video: The link below is to a short video of the series. Towards the end you see the Yankees heading into the locker room after winning the fourth game. Makes me happy to think Pop and Denny were in the room just a few minutes later.
Dumb things I’ve done…Keystone graduation (first in a series)
It is early June 1969 and I am sitting alone on the bleachers waiting for my fellow graduation candidates from Keystone Junior College to start the processional and join me. I am not marching because I’m on crutches. (More on that later.) I enjoyed my time at Keystone: I went there with two of my best friends from high school (Kevin McCann and Bobby Ougheltree), made some new friends, played basketball for both years despite having no ability to go to my left, and made grades good enough to get me in a state university in Ohio (Bowling Green). As an academic underachiever in high school, I had accomplished my primary goal at Keystone: get into a four-year school. Keystone was a nice experience, but it is small and isolated and I’m feeling it’s time to move on.
Crutches? Here’s the dumb part. Two nights before graduation we are all meeting up for an outdoor party to celebrate our impending graduation. Oddly, my job, along with several other guys, is to get the beer on site. My room is on the third floor of our dorm (The infamous Ward Hall) so I have to carry a case of beer down the stairs and then a couple hundred yards to our camp site. The first flight is not a problem but that changes. On the second flight I roll my ankle and go down pretty hard with beer (fortunately cans) flying everywhere. I know immediately my ankle is bad and sit for a moment planning my next move. Having already drank some beer at a primer party upstairs, I make the wrong decision; I get up, gather up the loose beers, and head out to the party ignoring the obvious injury. The party is a blast but the fun stops abruptly when I wake up the next morning. My ankle is twice its normal size and throbbing. I make my way to the campus infirmary and then on to the hospital for xrays. It is severely sprained. They wrap it up tight and tell me to soak it and keep it elevated and let me know I will be on crutches for the next few weeks. Graduation is the next day but I will not be marching. The administrators tell me I will make my way to the bleachers ahead of the others and wait for them to arrive. I call my folks to let them know there is a small hitch and that I’ve injured my ankle. I remain quite vague on how it happened but they’ve been through this stuff before and know it’s better not to ask too many questions (probably just happy I would still be graduating). Keystone is small and word gets around quickly that I’m injured and how it happened.
The president of the college, Dr. Harry Miller, was a great man and always kind to me. He was a certified high school referee and took an interest in the basketball team, attending almost all our games. Dr. Miller opens the ceremony by announcing the entrance of the class of 1969. However, first he explains to the audience that seated in the front row next to the crutches is Art Mahony, who sustained an injury to his ankle while carrying “refreshments” to a party two night ago. He hesitates and glances at me with a faint smile and pretty much everyone knows refreshments is code for beer. The procession starts and in 90 minutes I’m a junior college graduate, sprained ankle and all.
The photos and caption below appeared in the yearbook which serves to memorialize another of the “dumb things I’ve done.”
Below I hobble to the bleachers before the procession starts. With me is my mom, who looks lovely and finds the additional attention we’re getting kinda fun, and my dad, who is hiding behind me and will be happy when this latest chapter in my life is history.
Meeting Jan…
It is January 19, 1973 and I am sitting in the baggage area of Eastern Airlines (which no longer exists) at the Philadelphia Airport contemplating my future while waiting for the car service to take me out to Moorestown. It is 5:00 PM on a dark, chilly Friday evening and I am returning home after 6 months living with friends in Ft Lauderdale following college graduation. I took my union laborers card and worked pouring concrete on a high rise in Hollywood across the street from the Diplomat Hotel. I had been home at Christmas and promised my folks I would be coming home to look for a “real” job and start the process of being a grown up. My dad referenced my decision in a family Christmas letter a month earlier in this way:
“Art calls from Florida (reverse charges, of course). Will be home a week from today. Talks to mom-tells her he misses the family. She cries. “By the way is it OK if a make a long distance call and charge it to your number?”. Can you imagine her saying no after that con job. Art further advises that in the foreseeable future he will start to check into his life’s work. This, in my opinion, is progressive thinking on his part and causes mom and I to relax some more”.
So, as I sit waiting to board the car to Moorestown I know things are about to change as my brief extension of the college life was over and a career was soon to begin. But I had no idea the dramatic turn my life will take in the next 36 hours.
Then it happened. I glanced up from reading my Time magazine and spotted her. She was cute, petite, had dark hair and a great smile. As the Italians say, I was hit by the thunderbolt. I am no longer reading my magazine, just trying to check her out further without being to obvious. Finally, the guy from the car service starts reading off the names of the passengers for the ride to Jersey which will make four stops starting in Moorestown and ending in Trenton. I’m listening carefully to the names as I’m hopeful she will stand and head to the car. After several others are called he says a long name with a “ski” at the end. She gets up. I can’t explain it but I immediately deduce she is Polish, Catholic and from a working family. Now I’m getting anxious. Two names later “Mahony”. I’m up and moving quickly without looking like I’m running. Timing works as I reach the exit at the same time as the mystery girl. There is only one car in sight (picture a station wagon with four rows of seating) and she turns and looks at me with a smile and says “Is this ours?”. Oh boy…something could be happening here! I shrug politely and say it’s the only one so it must be. She smiles and heads to the back of the car to deposit her luggage. Somehow a couple Army guys headed to Ft Dix get ahead of me. She ends up directly behind the driver with other people filling the row to her right. Damn! The only seats left are next to the driver so I take it. I turn and ask her “Why didn’t you save me a seat?”. She laughs in a good way so I keep it up. “Where are you headed?” “Trenton,” she says. We start chatting and find out she was vacationing in Ft. Lauderdale and has the GREs (SATs for grad students) in Princeton in the morning so she’s heading to her parents house in Trenton. She lives in Morristown which is good because I’m probably going to head back to North Jersey to find work. The driver gets in and we get ready to go. I’m thinking I have to make my move so I pop the question, “My parents are picking me up in Moorestown so why don’t you get off with me and come over for something to eat and then I’ll take you home?” I’m cool on the outside but I’m thinking I can’t believe I asked this stranger to come home with me! She says, “You don’t have to go out of your way like that”. I come back with something to the effect that people have to go out of their way for each other. I’m sensing several service guys in the back seat rolling their eyes at that one but I think she’s buying it so I have to hold steady. She smiles and says, “We’ll see”.
For the next 40 minutes I’m chatting up the driver and the guy next to me and trying to be cool and charming and hope this mystery girl is noticing. Finally, we pull into the hotel parking lot which is the drop off point in Moorestown. I turn to see what’s happening with her. She’s ASLEEP! Oh boy. What do I do? If I get out and go it’s over-don’t know her name or any contact info. So, I tap her gently on her leg, she wakes up and I say “we’re here”. She hesitates and then says “OK”.
We get our bags and head to the lobby of the hotel to use the rest rooms. I come out first and my dad is standing in the lobby with the familiar “let’s hurry it up” look. I tell him I met a girl and she’s coming home with us. He’s starts to ask how this happened and decides it doesn’t matter. “What’s her name?”. Uh oh. “I don’t know” I answer. He then shrugs and shakes his head slightly showing equal parts bewilderment and resignation (also a look I’ve seen many times before) and says he will wait for us in the car with mom. Jan comes out and I ask her her name. She says Janice but I hear Janet. We get in the car and I introduce her as Janet and she corrects me but thinks it’s funny that I could forget so quickly. Just to keep it going I keep calling her Janet and she seems to like me kidding with her.
The ride to the house is pleasant and my mom and Jan chat easily. We arrive home and head to the kitchen and my mom offers food but Jan only wants some tea. More discussion follows and then my dad makes his move. He stands and says to Jan “You seem like a very nice girl. Come with me, there’s something I have to show you”. Jan gets up and walks with my dad toward the hallway where our family pictures are displayed. My mom and I follow knowing he’s up to something but not sure what. “Janice, forget about Artie, this is the one for you” he says pointing to a picture on the wall. “This is Artie’s brother Todd. This is the one for you. He has a great job, a company car, and a nice apartment in Hightstown”. Jan laughs but is not exactly sure what’s happening. Then he says “And look at that nice haircut”. Now I get it. The picture is of Todd in 1965 with a “mans’ haircut”. In 1970 I came home from school with shoulder length hair and my dad couldn’t stand it. Looking back I absolutely get it but at the time I wasn’t backing down and it caused serious tension in our relationship. I worked for him for the next 3 summers and we hardly ever spoke. In ’71 I’d drive him to work with no dialogue and when we arrived at the yard he would hand me a note with directions on where to drive the truck that day. It was chilly between us to say the least. Things started to thaw the previous summer, mostly a result of my mom becoming tired of the tension between the two of us. Anyway, Jan says “I like Art’s haircut”. My father throws up his hands and shows mock disapproval and says “OK, then you stay with him”. Jan loved it. (Looking back I realized now that my dad was making a peace offering-he would have never joked about this issue a year or two earlier.)
Jan and my folks say their goodbyes and I drive her to her house in Trenton. We are getting close to her house so I figure I better secure the next step and ask her out for tomorrow night; she says yes…oh yeah. As we enter the house Jan introduces me to her dad, Walt (but I will call him Mr. Rafalowski for now), who is quietly celebrating his 60th birthday by watching the 76ers play. His wife Jay (Josephine) is out with her lady friends playing bingo. He seems to like me and we have no problem making conversation. Jan is by now hungry so she starts eating a hamburger her dad had prepared. After about 15 minutes I get up to go and as I reach the door Walt starts explaining the directions back to Medford for the 4th time which really only involves about 4 turns. I’m listening politely and as I glance over his shoulder I see Jan in the doorway of the kitchen smiling; silently and affectionately acknowledging her dad’s occasional lapse into redundancy. I like what I’m seeing and feeling. I say goodbye and head home.
Saturday is spent unpacking and washing clothes. I head up to Trenton about 5 PM. The plan is dinner by the Echelon Mall and then we will see Lady Sings The Blues with Billy Dee Williams and Diana Ross at the mall theater. During the day I had picked up a bouquet of flowers for Jan’s mom and presented them to her at the door. I have an Irish name (two of her sisters married Irish guys with mixed results) and long hair so I have two strikes against me. But the flowers went a long way and seem to put her at ease. We chat for a couple of minutes and then Jan reminds them that the plan includes her staying over night in my parents guest room. Walt seems fine with the idea. Jay not so much, but off we go. We get to the diner and I order a plain hamburger and a soda and eat very cautiously; I don’t want to take a chance on spaghetti or any other meal that might end up in my teeth or on my shirt. On the other hand, Jan orders a salad, on open face turkey sandwich with gravy, vegetables, and mashed potato’s and eats like it was her last meal; not the least bit concerned with anything but enjoying the meal. We make the movie just in time, enjoy it and then head back home around 11:00 PM. The night was almost over, but the rest is confidential. We have breakfast with my folks in the morning and I have her back home by mid-day. She agrees to see me in Morristown the next weekend and that was, as they say, all she wrote.
So, that’s how it went in the first day and half of our relationship. We met each other, met our parents, had dinner, saw a good movie, and found conversation and laughs came easily. We knew something was happening but didn’t know that we would be celebrating this weekend 40 years later. Not sure why I did it but a couple of days after we met I went to the basement and pulled out the luggage from my trip. The Eastern Airlines tags were still attached. I cut them off and put them in a box I kept for momentos. You can see them below. Sometimes, you just know.
“How old is the Kid?”
It is January 10, 1995 and we are in San Diego to celebrate my Dad’s 80th birthday. Sean, Debby, Ray, Steve, Jan, Ryan, and Colin are all there to enjoy this milestone. Also there was LeeAnn, the waitress at the coffee shop my folks went to for 25 years. She was a nice girl and great to my parents. It’s raining and chilly but we have a surprise for my father and we are waiting anxiously for it to happen. At about 10 AM we hear a fire truck outside with the siren going full blast. My father has always enjoyed trucks and trains and has a collection of a couple hundred toy trucks (half of them fire trucks) which are everywhere in their house. As the sirens blasts my dad starts to get curious so we head out to the driveway to see what’s happening. The firetruck is parked in front of their house and the driver is walking up the driveway. He is a nice guy with a big smile and asks, “How old is the kid?”. There are some giggles and hesitation and then several people answer: “80”.
The fire department makes money by providing truck rides to kids for a donation. Can’t remember who came up with the idea but we decided dad would like to get a ride for his birthday.
The driver is not sure what to think but starts to warm up to the idea. We are all given fire helmets (made of plastic) and we load onto the truck. My parents hop in the front seat and we proceed to drive by the homes of every friend they have in the park. Most come out and wave and have a good laugh. My dad is loving it. Ryan and Colin have a blast and are starting to realize their grandfather is a character and pretty cool. We are eventually dropped off back the house. The driver admitted he’s never had an 80 year old go for a ride before which is what we suspected.
Simple, fun, and a good cause. Another reminder of why I love my family.
(You may notice Colin’s not looking at the camera. Is he thinking about his plan for the bobble-head doll? Read on and find out)
Bompa, Colin, and Bob’s Big Boy
It is sometime in the early 1990s and we (me, Jan, Ryan, Colin) are on vacation in San Diego visiting my parents (aka: Nana and Bompa). It’s a cold rainy day and we are finishing lunch at Bob’s Big Boy restaurant when Colin (about 7 years old) spots a Big Boy bobble-head doll. The doll is placed at eye level for a 7 year old in the display case where we check out. (Well played Big Boy!) Colin becomes immediately obsessed with the doll and asks repeatedly for us to buy it for him. We decline but he doesn’t let up and goes into sulk mode (or as Bompa would say he was throwing a “snit”) as we head to the car. In no way true to his character as these displays never phased him when he was in charge, Bompa returns to the restaurant and buys the doll which he then hands over to Colin. People have won the $200 million lotto with less excitement than Colin displays once he has the doll in hand. Colin and the doll remain inseparable for the remainder of our vacation and the doll makes it back to Jersey with the rest of us and resides for several years in Colin’s room without much fanfare.
Then, things change. A few years later we are back to SD for a visit which was wonderful but uneventful. On our way home Jan and I are informed that Colin (with some assistance from Ryan) has left the bobble-head in my parents refrigerator positioned behind some items so they will find it but not right away. Not sure what inspired this but as they say “game on”. So, we don’t hear a word about whether the doll is discovered-just silence. My folks come back a year later to visit. A couple weeks following that visit, Colin discovered the bobble-head in his sock drawer. Here we go. For the next 15 years the doll makes more coast to coast trips than the Yankees. Colin’s aunts, uncles, and parents assist in placing the doll in my father’s pillow, drawers, jacket pockets, car, shed, etc. On the other hand, Bompa and several of my siblings (the same people assisting Colin) help place the doll in Colin’s dorm room, gym bag, locker, helmet, etc.
One snafu occurred which put the doll out of action for close to a year: Denny, after a trip out to SD, calls up and says he just wants to stop by and say hello. I should have known immediately that something was up as Denny never just stops by to say hello. Anyway, he comes over and we chat, he uses the bathroom, eventually leaves and I don’t think about it again. Many months later Mario (our 3rd son-a subject for another story) comes down to dinner with the bobble-head which he found in his “stuff”. Denny must have placed the doll in an area occupied by both of the boys and went undiscovered. Colin takes the doll and places it back in service and off we go again.
In 2010 I’m on a short visit to SD after a business trip. My dad and I start to chat when we come up with a plan to get Colin big time. The plan is finalized and I head home, with the doll. I call Colin’s boss, Mike Gentile, at Ricoh and take him through the plan-he is a good guy and immediately on board. During one of the branches recognition meetings Mike’s gets up front and asks Colin to join him. He goes into a speech about how Colin’s performance has been so outstanding that he is receiving a very special award. Colin’s been doing pretty well so he is totally buying into what Mike is saying. Finally, Mike opens a box and pulls out the bobble-head and presents to Colin. Colin now has to explain to his team the history behind the doll and acknowledge that his grandfather has gotten the better of him one last time. Mission totally accomplished. My father listens to me tell the story and couldn’t be happier.
The top photo has a note from my dad to Colin. It reads:
“If you think for one minute you can out guess me
than you have several things coming.
With kind regard,
your grand dad,
RL Mahony
PS Watch your back boy!!
That was the last exchange. A few months later Bompa passed. The bobble-head sits on Colin’s night table now and for many years to come.
A routine touchdown
I’m watching an NFL game with my dad several years ago. The offensive team has been moving the ball and faces a first and goal at the five. The quarterback drops back and throws a routine pass for a touchdown to the end who is wide open. The receiver goes through a series of elaborate dance moves and then spikes the ball as if he’d just won the super bowl. My dad leans forward, turns right to see me and with a look which is both amused and puzzled says “Artie, isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?”
My first pay check and Denny’s new patio
It is early July 1965 and I’m riding with a friend to my brother Denny’s house. He and Adie moved into their home in Denville in ’64 and have been steadily fixing it up. As we pull into his long drive way I am excited, very excited. I have in my hand my very first paycheck. I was running the refreshment stand at Island Beach. Six hours a day for seven days a week at a rate of $1.00 an hour. Don’t get me wrong, this was not exactly grueling work. But I was there everyday and took care of the business. Sure, I had made money in the past cutting lawns and doing a paper route. But this was different: I had a check in my hand made out to Art Mahony in the amount of $82.00. From a financial perspective I had arrived. As the sixth of eight you always feel you’re a little insignificant compared to the older guys but that would all be different now.
As I exit the car I see that my dad, mother, and various siblings are all at work laying down Denny’s new brick patio. This is perfect; they will all see this enormous accomplishment at the same time. They hold up work as my dad examines the check. I’m feeling good as he nods his approval. “Artie got his first pay check” he declares to my mother and the others. But glory at our house was fleeting and it’s time to get back to work. He starts to hand the check back to me but hesitates. He turns to Denny and asks him how much the bricks cost for the patio. Oh boy. Denny answers “80 bucks” and smiles. My father is thinking something over and I don’t like where this is headed. He turns back to me “sign the back of the check”. Someone finds a pen and I sign. My dad takes the check and hands it to Denny. I don’t recall any hesitation on his part. Dad turns back to me and slides 2 dollar bills out of his pocket and hands them to me. He gives me a smile and everyone goes back to work.
So, with the mission accomplished, though $80 poorer, I’m now heading back to work at the beach and thinking two things: I really feel good about myself right now and I’m really happy I don’t have to work on Denny’s patio.
I’ve told this story before and people’s reactions are evenly divided: some can’t believe my dad would take my first check and “redistribute” the money to my older brother (a curious approach from a middle of the road Republican) and others understand what it meant to me. The truth is I never cared that much about the money and my dad knew it. However, in a matter of minutes I had gotten approval and recognition from my parents for another step toward manhood and, at the same time, I helped out my brother Denny who was (and still is) my hero.
Fritzie and the lottery
It is October 0f 1963 and we are still going to Paul’s Diner after 9:00 mass on Sundays. Our waitress every week is Fritzie and she and dad have a great time kidding each other. (What was with dad and the waitresses?). Didn’t know to much about Fritzie except that she was a single mom with a special needs kid and not exactly living the high life. She talks dad into sending money to Church in Suffern, NY for a monthly raffle. He’s been sending a few bucks every month for a year or two with no results. Halloween of ’63 dad gets a call from a guy who says he just won the monthly lottery. Dad hangs up on the guy thinking it was a prank. Maybe Mr. Marsden joking around. The guy calls back but now he realizes it’s for real and he just won $2300. I checked and $2300 in 1963 is worth $16,000 today. This came at a difficult time as dad had left his previous job and was working at Robert Glynn, Inc in NY for a lot less money. Mom and dad were very happy for the timely infusion of cash.
Fritzie and dad always joked that if he won he would give her $700 and if she won she would do the same. The following week after we finished eating dad paid the bill and we were on our way out. As we get to the door we hear Fritzie scream and run up to dad to give him a big hug. He had given her a $700 tip.
Fairness and the shoes that tie on the side
It’s September 1961 and John Metelski has just moved in up the street. He’s from Oceanside, NY and has a cool haircut. He shows up for school in the 7th grade with a purple shirt, black pants, matching purple socks, and pointy shoes that tie on the side. Very, very cool. Naturally the rest of my friends want the cool shirts and socks and definitely the shoes that tie on the side. I go to my mom to let her know I need a pair of these shoes asap. She sees my current shoes are in good shape and I get a no go. I persist. “Talk to your father if you’d like” she says. I was so desperate I believed I had a chance and brought it up to the big guy. He says my shoes are fine and this isn’t going to happened right now. I take one last shot. “All my friends are getting the shoes!” With a touch of defiance I explain to him that this just isn’t fair. He pauses and looks right at me and asks “Who exactly told you everything was going to be fair?” Silence. No answer. Discussion over. Lesson learned.