One of the many gifts that Boom Boom gave us was the torrent of quips about how one leads one’s life.   He could say so much by saying so little.   A statement at just the right moment resonated in my young, eager eardrums.  How I interpreted or applied it was up to me.  No more words were spoken because no more words were needed.

Growing up, Daniel Joseph “Rusty” Staub was my favorite MLB baseball player.  Born and raised in NOLA, he signed with the Houston Astros for a then crazy 100,000 dollars in the early sixties.  Our family and his were friends.  My dad introduced me to him at an early age both in person and through the TV and newspapers.  I was hooked.

He went on to play in four decades (late 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, and early 90’s) for five teams (the Mets twice), amass 2700 plus hits, and late in his career set a modern-day record for pinch hits.

Growing up my conversations with Boom Boom were plentiful.  Rarely did one occur that didn’t start or end in baseball.  Rarely did one occur without a subtle or not so subtle lesson imbedded in it.

“Rusty went one for three last night Dad.  What’s his batting average?”  “Get a pencil and paper son and we will figure it out,” he suggested.

“Can we drive to Houston and watch Rusty play for our vacation?”  “Let’s sit down tonight with your mom and see if that’s what we want to do this summer.”  “We could go to AstroWorld too!”  “Sounds great son.  It’s a family decision, let’s talk to mom.”

“Why did the Astros trade him to the Montreal Expos, dad?”  “The Astros must have thought they were getting value back son.”  “What does value mean, dad?”  “Value means getting equal or better in return.”

In my teen years, “Why did Rusty turn down 2.5 million dollars over five years from the Mets, dad?”  “He asked for $200k a year for the next 20 years instead Wally.  He is setting himself up for the rest of his life son.”  “What does that mean?”  “Get a pencil and paper and we will figure it out,” he again suggested.

Rusty never held out for more money.  He never had a bad word to say about another teammate or coach. He never got tossed from a game.  And, most of all, he left the game with his head held high.  Over time he became a favorite of many for how he conducted himself on the field, in the clubhouse, and in life.

Happy belated birthday to Rusty!  He would have been 75 on Monday, April 1st, or April Fool’s Day.  But, Rusty was no fool.  He didn’t know it, but he helped Boom Boom teach an eager beaver a thing or two about sports, life, finances, and growing up “the right way.”

It’s great to have heroes in life.  It’s greater to have one that you can learn a lot from.  It’s greatest when you can share that hero’s journey with your ultimate hero in life.