Miracle in Shreveport by David Benham

Author:David Benham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2018-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

Cardinals Camp

While Jason’s minor league spring training with the Orioles didn’t start until early March, I had to report to camp for the Cardinals a couple of weeks earlier. I didn’t have to twist his arm to convince him to come along with me for my first two weeks of camp.

We showed up on February 15, walking into the big-league clubhouse where I had prayed on the floor a few months earlier. This time the locker room was bustling with activity, and my jersey was now hanging in a locker under all the Cardinal greats. Just above my jersey was a placard with the name Benham written in block letters. Above it sat a dozen baseball bats made exactly as I’d specified, with my name burned on the barrel. At the bottom of my locker were enough shoes to start a small shoe store. It felt like a dream. And to top it off, standing in the middle of the room were manager Tony La Russa, Jim Leyland, Bob Gibson, Lou Brock, and Red Schoendienst. All legends of baseball. I couldn’t believe it.

La Russa introduced himself to me. Jocketty was there and reminded Tony that the Cardinals had acquired me in the Mercker trade. With all this stuff going on around me, I remembered the scripture, “Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will stand before kings; he will not stand before obscure men” (Proverbs 22:29 NASB). I could see God’s hand at work.

I then introduced Jason. Everything in me wanted to ask Jocketty to trade for him, too, but I didn’t have the guts to say it. Besides, Jason never would have done it for me, so I was fine with a simple introduction.

As soon as they walked away, the clubhouse manager hustled up to us and introduced himself.

“Hey, David. I’m Buddy Bates—welcome to the big leagues!”

I still couldn’t believe my ears.

“Thank you, sir. And thank you for helping me with my bats,” I said.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. You know, since this is your first time, why don’t you come with me?” he said.

“Do you mind if I bring my brother?” I asked.

“Of course not! Let’s go,” he replied.

He brought us over to his clubhouse assistant and said, “Hook these guys up.”

I didn’t really know what he was talking about, but “hooking us up” sounded great to me. He took us to a back room filled with Cardinals gear from wall to wall—every imaginable article of clothing and paraphernalia you can imagine. It was like a Dick’s Sporting Goods for Cardinals gear.

“What do you want?” he said.

“Are you serious? I can get whatever I want?” I replied.

“Yep. Whatever you want—take your pick.”

At that point Jason finally broke his nervous silence and whispered behind me, “Dude. Get me some shorts and a hat and a—”

“All right, all right,” I whispered back.

“Seriously, guys,” the clubbie said. “Just have at it.”

The two of us walked out of there with arms full of Cardinals gear. Now, remember, we’d grown up on a shoestring budget and were barely scraping by as adults.

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