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The Legend of Stan the Kid (Part 1 of 2) Time has a funny way with things. It had been eight years since Uncle George died, but as four generations of the Lampadale family sat around the campfire, they remembered him fondly. They had all agreed early on that Uncle George’s tragic death would not stop them from coming back every two years for the family reunion. Now, as they sat around the fire talking over the family wiffle ball game that afternoon, Finn stood up, and cleared his throat, “That reminds me of the story Uncle George told that one year about The Legend of Stan the Kid, do you guys remember that?” The adults smirked. His sister Frannie smirked as well, but she also rolled her eyes and whispered to Ellen, “here we go.” And then Finn began …. “Yep, Stan the Kid, the greatest left-handed shortstop in the history of baseball. If I remember correctly, Uncle George said that by the time Stan McGee was 8 years old in 1963, the young left-hander – just like you George - was able to get his bearings while making some sort of spin move from shortstop so that he could throw the ball with accuracy to first base. He said that even though Stan was left-handed, when he went to his right to get the ball in the hole between short and third, he’d let his momentum carry him around, essentially doing a full 360, as he threw the ball to first base, all in one fluid motion. As he explained this, Finn mimicked the move as best he could, and in doing so almost tripped into the fire. Ellen laughed, “Finn, you’re no Stan the Kid.” Finn caught his balance, winked at Frannie who fully understood that Finn was putting on a show, and then re-commenced: Young Stan McGee’s parents thought it was funny that their kid had this skill, as neither of them were all that athletic. This quiet, unassuming kid who would walk onto the field slowly, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward was transformed once he got into his crouch. If an 8-year old could be said to move with grace, it was Stan. George interrupted, “Hey, do I move with grace?” “Well kid,” Finn deadpanned, “you’re getting there.” George’s dad just chuckled and pulled George closer, then gently said to his son, “shhh, let’s hear what happens next.” “Baseball ready,” the coaches would yell. Early that first year of little league, his parents overheard one of the parents on an opposing team mutter, “it’s as if this kid was born baseball ready.” Mr. and Mrs. McGee allowed themselves a hint of a smile, but not wanting the attention, they just kept their eyes on the field. Of course, with his skills and his name, it didn’t take long before Stan was being called “Stan the Man,” which migrated quickly to “Stan the Kid”. Though his parents didn’t really like their child being call “the Man,” after doing some research on Stan Musial, they came to think that the moniker would perhaps be an extra reminder to their son of the importance of living life with honor. But they still preferred “Stan the Kid.” Finn looked at the younger kids, “seriously, you should look him up some time, Stan Musial.” As for a lefty playing shortstop, at first his coaches were afraid that he would make wild throws and that the torquing of his body would place too much stress on his shoulder. In those early years, Stan was able to dispel those fears on the first day of practice every spring once the coaches saw his graceful movements and his footwork Frannie said slyly, “Wait a minute, how did Uncle George know all this?” At that point, Grandpa Leo broke in, “I saw Stan play when he was a kid. And Uncle George played with him in college and stayed in close touch after they graduated.” Finn continued, “Stan also demonstrated by his actions how the left-handed shortstop was better positioned than a right-hander to turn double plays. When he took the toss from the second baseman on a ball hit to the right side of the infield, Stan was able to glide over the bag in a continuous motion and throw to first from 2-3 feet past second base, which also allowed him to more easily avoid the runner coming from first. This time it was Sam who got up to see if he could work out the move, but he was smart enough to keep a little further from the fire. Finn asked, “What do you think, Sam, could Stan have pulled that off?” Sam brightened, “yeah, I think that could work.” When high school came, young Stan had to prove himself all over again. Because of his hitting and general athleticism, however, it was clear that he was going to make varsity his freshman year. After all, the Wheeling Wildcats were hardly stacked with talent. But the Wildcats already had a shortstop, senior Brandon Jacks, by all accounts the most talented shortstop in the conference. Jacks was set to go to U of I on a baseball scholarship. With Jacks around, the coach wasn’t about to give the freshman a shot at short. So, Stan had to be satisfied starting the season on the bench, slated to maybe get some time in right field or first base from time to time. He didn’t complain. But he did ask. He asked to take grounders at short. He asked if he could play second, or third. He asked what it would take to get into the starting lineup. He asked to pinch run. These questions were always directed at Mr. Andrews, the assistant coach, who was always supportive, but who also preached patience. As luck would have it, during the team’s first game, their third-baseman Steve Stokes broke his jaw diving into second base. As Steve was helped off the field, young Stan McGee got in the game as a pinch runner. The next batter lined a double, bringing Stan home for his first run as a Wildcat. When he returned to the bench, Stan grabbed his mitt, walked up to Coach Carter, and simply said, “Coach, I got this. Keep me in at third. Trust me.” Coach Carter was too distracted by Stokes’ injury to give it much thought. He simply stared blankly at McGee for a moment and said, “Alright, you’re in, kid.” So it was that in game 1 of his freshman year, Stan McGee got to play third base for the Wheeling Wildcats. A left-handed third baseman was almost as absurd as a left-handed shortstop. That first game, Stan took four ground balls flawlessly and threw each of the runners out without incident. Carter took note that Stan’s arm was decent enough, but it would surely get stronger in the coming years. It was in the second game against the Meadows Mustangs when people really took notice. In the sixth inning with the game tied, with one out and a runner on first, the batter laid a bunt down the third base line. The Mustangs’ coach must have noticed that Stan was left-handed and had probably figured that even a poorly laid sacrifice bunt towards third base had a decent chance of being a single. After all, there was virtually no way a left-handed third baseman could charge a bunt and then turn his body towards first for the throw while his momentum was driving his body towards home plate. This particular bunt was not going to disabuse anyone of that opinion. But what this bunt did was open up the eyes of everyone who was there to the possibilities of Stan McGee. As the ball rolled down the line just off the dirt, Stan charged and angled himself slightly to the first base side of the ball. As he and the ball converged, he slid, his left leg set out in front and his right leg bent under his body to cushion the slide. His right hand, glove closed, stayed close to his body until just as the ball seemed like it was going to roll past him, at which point he opened his mitt to welcome the ball as he dug his right cleat into the grass, and swung his left foot towards the dugout. He popped up as he continued to turn, his left foot planted, he swung his head around to the right, towards first base, with his shoulder and arm following through and rifled the ball perfectly into the glove at first base. It was one integrated continuous move, as if he had practiced it a thousand times. And maybe he had, or at least various iterations of it. The throw seemed to accelerate out of his hand, defying the laws of physics, just as his body’s movement seemed to defy the laws of kinesthetics. The pop of the ball in the first baseman’s mitt put an exclamation point on the play. Among the jaw-dropping plays, this was McGee’s finest to that point. Kevin couldn’t contain himself, “No way, did Uncle George really tell you all of this?” With a raise of an eyebrow, Finn plowed on: Everyone there that day knew that they had seen something that they were unlikely to see again, and yet for this kid to have done it once surely meant he was capable of doing it again. From then on, Coach Carter called him “Stan the Kid”. His teammates preferred to call him “Butter.” For his sophomore season, there was no debate. Brandon Jacks had graduated and was now playing down in Champaign. Shortstop would be Stan’s home. His arm was stronger, and his spin move more graceful. That year, with Stan playing shortstop, the Wildcats turned 16 more double plays than they ever had before. -- stay tuned for part two --