Introduction
by Jay Smith
As a kid in Dayton, Ohio, he played on a sandlot team with future baseball Hall-of-Famer Mike Schmidt. He prayed for rain delays during Cincinnati games so he could listen to the Reds' legendary radio voice, Waite Hoyt, recount glories of the mighty '27 Yankees for whom Hoyt pitched.
As a grownup in Atlanta, Georgia, he called and caught a perfect game in a men's senior-league baseball game, coached teams that included his son Adam, daughter Hana and countless other children and started a Saturday-morning league for physically and mentally handicapped youngsters. More than a decade later, the league thrives.
He's one of the Southeast's top real-estate attorneys, but it's Abe Schear's love of baseball that sets him apart. And it's his passion for talking about baseball that accounts for this book which, on more than one occasion, I encouraged him to publish.
Six, eight, ten times a year, Abe phones or visits someone special to talk baseball. He records the interviews in a newsletter he mails to select friends and clients. To make the mailing list is like being selected to play on an all-star team of Abe's buddies.
From the vendor who sells him beer at Atlanta Braves games to Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig, Abe has interviewed more than thirty people who care almost as deeply about baseball as he does. They range from former President Jimmy Carter to the Atlanta retiree who served as Ty Cobb's personal batboy. Big Red Machine and Detroit Tigers manager Sparky Anderson made the list, as did Braves and Mets pitcher Tom Glavine.
The interviews go where the subjects take them. Abe's gentle touch opens seams most sportswriters have never explored. In this book, Abe shares some of his best interviews.
But who is this 50-something baseball zealot? In the spirit of full disclosure, I am among those Abe has interviewed. My interview ranks well below those Abe has conducted with broadcaster Ernie Harwell, player-union organizer Marvin Miller and, perhaps, that favorite beer vendor.
To know Abe is to know a gentle and decent baseball soul. His loving and patient wife Linda hugged me when I sought her permission to bring Abe out of "retirement" to help me coach a team. Abe urged me to pick, sight unseen, a youngster whose mother was in an institution and whose father had abandoned him. Then, Abe made it his personal mission to turn this 9-year-old into a baseball player.
Abe's the kind of competitor who, when I first met him, was crouched behind home plate in his catcher's position. He tossed a handful of dirt on my shoes as I stepped into the batter's box, lifted his mask and, with a big smile, introduced himself. Our families had known each other in Ohio.
He's fair and unafraid of seemingly impossible dreams. Not unlike Don Quixote, he has campaigned for years, without success, to get the late Cecil Travis inducted into the Hall of Fame. Who's Cecil Travis? Abe will tell you he may be the greatest shortstop ever to play the game. In 1941, when Joe DiMaggio recorded his 56-game hitting streak and Ted Williams had the last .400-plus batting average, Travis, who played for the Washington Senators, amassed more hits than either of them. It was but one of many great years stopped cold by four years of gallant World War II military duty. After the war, when Travis returned to the game, he wasn't the same. Travis' stats measure up, Abe will tell you, but it's his performance as a vet that set him apart. Travis died in 2006, but Abe continues his campaign.
One more story about my friend Abe, and I'll leave you alone with this book of interviews. The little-boys' team Linda allowed Abe to coach with me finished seventh in an eight-team league. Our last chance at glory came in a post-season playoff game against the team that finished second. Our star pitcher, a big youngster named Austin Armstrong and one of Abe's favorites, gave us, three, four, then five innings of great pitching. Abe closely monitored the pitch count and assured me Austin was strong enough to go the final inning. He did and we won, 6-5. We awarded Austin the game ball.
Barely a year later, Austin died. It was sudden, the work of a cruel virus. Atop the collection of major-league- autographed baseballs that Austin collected sat that complete-game-pitched baseball we had awarded him. We grieved. Perhaps no one grieved more than Abe.
He used the next edition of his newsletter to tell his readers about Austin and to appeal for funds that eventually totaled $50,000 and allowed us to name a baseball field in Austin's memory. It may have been Abe's finest newsletter. Not surprisingly, a little boy helped make it so.
That's my friend Abe. He loves baseball but he loves life even more.
About the Author
Abe Schear is a partner at Arnall Golden Gregory, a large Atlanta law firm. He is the co-chair of the real estate practivce group which represents landlords, developers and tenants throughout the United States. He has been active in the local community, twice being appointed my mayors of Atlanta to commissions. He has coached youth baseball from 1986 to the present and was one of the founders of NYO's challenger team, a team for physiclly and/or challenged youngsters, a team he coached for seven years. From 1988 thru the present, he has played in the Senior Hardball League in Atlanta, mostly playing catcher (his favorite position due to its conversational nature). Abe started the Baseball Digest in 2000 and publishes various interviews at least three times each year. Abe's wife, Linda, is perhaps the bigger baseball fan and each of his children, Adam and Hana, have endured his coaching.