Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, August 29, 1994 TAG: 9408290077
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: RON BROWN STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
"I shook the hand of Roberto Clemente," the 67-year-old Salem resident says proudly of the time he met the late Pittsburgh Pirate great. "He was like [Muhammad] Ali. He was the greatest."
Womack's story took on a new poignancy Sunday as the Pirates' farm team, the Salem Buccaneers, prepared to play its last game at the old ball yard. It will be replaced next year with a spanking new stadium.
"It's going to leave a gap in the immediate neighborhood," said Womack, who lives in foul territory off the left field line about a hundred yards from the stadium.
"Some people were unhappy and dissatisfied to have them here, but all and all I'm going to miss them."
On Sunday, Womack remembered the early years of the franchise, when games were preceded by fans and players meeting for a while on the field.
"We were almost like family," he said. "I thought it was great. It's something that you wouldn't think you'd see from professional athletes."
Unlike most social groups of the era, the family came in many colors.
"Some were white as snow," Womack said. "Some were black as tar. Some were in between. They were all nice people."
Womack admits that some of that has changed as major-league prospects and owners have become more preoccupied with money matters. In the last decade, players have been seen less and less outside the confines of the stadium.
Still, he said, Salem has a natural love affair with sports.
"I don't think you'll find a city of our size in the United States that is more sports-minded," he said.
Hookie Robertson and his wife, Pat, are among the faithful. They raised their son, Kevin, in a house just across the street from the center field wall. They remember as many as a dozen kids standing along the street in hopes of snagging the far end of a home run.
"I'm going to miss seeing the crowds," Pat Robertson said. "We're going to miss the lights. We've mowed our yard at night in the summer using the ball-field lights."
Franklin Perkins, another neighbor, keeps a plastic trash can full of errant baseballs in his shed. He occasionally gives them to kids on their way to the ballpark.
While he doesn't like the parking problems, he says he realizes baseball has been good for the city.
Good or not, Ed Harlow, who lives in the house just over the wall from left field, won't miss baseballs pounding into his windows and aluminum siding.
He points outs dents the baseballs have made. Once, when a ball narrowly missed his grandchild, he started throwing them back into the stadium.
"They tore up the damn house several times," Harlow said. "They need a bigger park. They're not going far. They're just going three blocks."
And to Bill Womack, that is the best news.
"They're a part of us," he said.
by CNB