A few years ago, I shared a lunch with Gene Bennett, the Cincinnati Reds amazing scout of 58 years, at the invitation of major league umpire Greg Gibson.

Bennett held court with us by telling baseball stories, basketball officiating stories and many more. Gene was 86 but could recount people, places and dates like few others.

He was part of the Cincinnati Reds family for almost 60 years, from when he was signed as a player in 1952. He moved into scouting in 1958 and was promoted to scouting supervisor in 1975. His notable signings include Reds Hall of Famers Don Gullett, Barry Larkin and Chris Sabo along with Jeff Russell, Charlie Leibrandt and Paul O’Neill.

Bennett, who lived in Wheelersburg, was a treasure for the entire area for years. He died on Wednesday at the age of 89 in Portsmouth. His wife Loretta preceded him in death.

If baseball was the subject — and it almost always was if Gene Bennett was in the room — then the clock was turned back.

Bennett’s life was certainly an amazing one. He met two presidents — President Jimmy Carter and President George W. Bush — and was known throughout the baseball world for his scouting prowess.

He met President Carter in Atlanta while chatting it up with Bobby Cox and met President Bush in the Astrodome.

He also had a secondmeeting with President Bush when he came through Portsmouth on a campaign swing.

Bennett recounted that story during that lunch a few years ago, telling us it was when the Portsmouth Mural project had just started. Al Oliver’s portrait was going up but not quite finished. The socks he was wearing were still white.

President Bush took notice that it was indeed, Oliver, who had also played for the Texas Rangers when Bush was a minority owner there. He also noticed the uncompleted socks.

“He pointed that out right away,” Bennett said. “But he knew who Al Oliver was.”

He met President Carter and to his amazement the president actually remembered his name on a later trip to Atlanta when they met again.

“What a memory!” Bennett said.

Of course, he probably remembered Bennett because he has that kind of effect on people.

He was a warm person from top to bottom.

I didn’t know Bennett’s college basketball officiating background but it included stints with the Ohio Valley Conference, Missouri Valley Conference and Mid-American Conference. He called games until 1991.

His first game was between Morehead State and Western Kentucky University in Laughlin Gymnasium.

Bennett said he never called a game involving the University of Kentucky or Ohio State, so he never dealt with the wrath of Adolph Rupp.

Baseball has always been Gene Bennett’s calling card.

In January 2009 he received the Legends In Scouting Award from the Professional Baseball Scouts Foundation and at the December 2009 Winter Meetings he received the Midwest Scout of the Year Award.

More recently, Bennett penned a book My 58 years with the Cincinnati Reds and donated the proceeds to the Wheelersburg Little League baseball program.

He was also in the inaugural class of the CP-1 Ashland Baseball Hall of Fame three years ago. Bennett spent more than a few days watching baseball in Central Park.

His funeral arrangements are incomplete.

ASHLAND, Ky. – Every year at this time, there is a television force that draws me right into it. What is it about the Little League World Series that makes it must-see TV?

Part of it is how the games are covered by ESPN with the backstories of the players and the shots of their mothers and fathers in the stands who are like cats in a room full of rocking chairs.

I’m not sure if any of the mothers really ever watch their sons play. They are usually sitting with their hands covering their faces when their son (or daughter) comes to the plate.

I can understand that. There’s so much pressure on these young boys to perform. You feel it as a parent in a regular season Little League game. Multiply that times about a million.

When the Little League World Series rolls around, it always reminds me of 1963 when Ashland American nearly made it to Williamsport. That’s right, almost to Williamsport. They fell one game short, losing to Houston, Texas, 6-3 in the Southern Regional championship game in Norfolk, Virginia. I’m sure those players who were on that team have special memories of that time. Mine have come from writing stories and doing research about the ’63 Boys of Summer, including a chapter in my book Tomcat Dynasty (shameless plug).

Several of those boys will have a mini-reunion on Saturday during the CP-1 Hall of Fame ceremony as part of the class of 2017. Tim Huff, Johnny Mullins and Bo Carter were part of those all-stars and will all be enshrined Saturday.

Here is the 1963 Ashland American roster with their regular-season team in parenthesis: John Mullins (Indians), David Staten (Twins), Tim Huff (Yankees), John Brislin and Jocko Greening (Angels), David McPeek and Mike Griffith (White Sox), Robert Ison and Mike Johnson (Orioles), Ricky Dixon, Mike Tackett, Charles Jackson, Joe Mantle and Jackie Daniels (Tigers). There was some diversity – Johnson and Jackson are black – during a time when race riots were raging, but not in Ashland.

Jim Stewart was the manager and George Riffe his assistant. Stewart was hard-nosed, a taskmaster who demanded perfection but who loved his players like his own sons.

Back then the tournament was one-and-done. You win or you go home. So you had to be perfect. Early in tournament play, Ashland faced a young lefthander pitcher from Greenup named Don Gullett and escaped with a 2-1 victory.

Mullins and Huff were starters and stars, pitchers and home run hitters. But the best player was Ricky Dixon. They rode their stud in a 3-1 win over Louisville Buechel in the state championship game in Lexington with 15 strikeouts and then in the Southern Division championship game he was the winning pitcher against St. Albans, West Virginia, 4-2 in a game that was played in Central Park.

That victory advanced Ashland to Norfolk where Florida, Mississippi and Texas awaited.

Ashland blanked Sarasota, Florida, 2-0 as Dixon and McPeek crushed back-to-back home runs in the fourth inning to break a scoreless tie. Mullins almost made it three in a row as his long blast curved foul in the same spot in right field where the other homers had gone. Mike Griffith pitched a three-hit shutout.

Houston belted Biloxi, Miss., 11-1 and looked invincible. It would be Texas vs. Kentucky in the championship game.

Ashland gave them a battle, leading 3-2 before a three-run rally put it away for Texas in the fifth inning. Ashland had only one hit, a single by Dixon that scored two runs in the third inning.

Houston was on the way to Williamsport the next day and Ashland was on its way home.

Can you imagine if Ashland had been the team going to Williamsport instead? How much would we have celebrated them over the years? Legendary wouldn’t begin to describe it. Yet they lost, just once, and they’re just another team.

Kind of sad isn’t it?

Houston, by the way, fell to Granada Hills, California, 3-2 in nine innings in the first game of the 1963 Little League World Series. The California team went on to win it all.

ASHLAND, Ky. – Saturday is going to be an emotional day in Central Park.

The third class of the CP-1 Ashland Baseball Hall of Fame will be enshrined beside the big diamond where these men and their families spent countless hours.

We started this three years ago and it’s become a summer highlight. And I know it’s going to be emotional because the first two years certainly had their moments.

Watching “Big” Ed Hughes be wheeled up to the podium and hold the bat that he used to hit one of the longest home runs in park history and then watching even bigger Juan Thomas fight back tears while talking about his mother who had recently died.

The thread between all of these classes is interesting to watch unfold. J.D. Browne, a 1961 Holy Family graduate, even has a tie to our oldest honoree, Nard Pergrem, who officiated basketball and baseball games when he played.

Nard isn’t with us anymore but his family is coming out in full force to represent him.

Browne also played with Jim Speaks in the early 1960s. Don Frailie, a schoolmate and teammate of Browne, said he first heard Speaks threw hard when he pitched for Charles Russell Elementary’s team. That’s right, in the 1960s, even the elementary schools had baseball teams.

Ashland has such a rich baseball heritage and this Saturday is the day to celebrate it. We will be dedicating the Kentucky historic marker recognizing Central Park.

I know how special the park is to everybody because the fundraising for the marker took about two days. Everybody wanted to contribute to the cause. Well, your marker is up already and we’ll put the official touches on it before the Hall of Fame ceremony.

Every one of this year’s honorees has a story to tell and they will have the opportunity to do it from 1 to 4 p.m. in front of the big diamond. Come with casual dress and enjoy The Show.

But sure to bring a hanky.

The 2017 class:

J.D. Browne

Bo Carter

Joe Conley

Kevin Gothard

Mike Gothard

Dale Griffith

Steve Hemlepp

Tim Huff

John Mullins

Nard Pergrem

Mike Smith

Jim Speaks

John Thomas

 

Dear Fruit Cove Baptist Church family,

You were there.

You were always there.

And for that, we will never forget.

You were there when my brother – and your pastor – received the most heart-wrenching news he would ever receive in his life. His Pam, the absolute love of his life, his confidante, his partner in ministry, his dear Pam, had brain cancer. There is no reasoning, no understanding when that kind of news is delivered. It’s like being pushed off a cliff.

But you were there.

You were waiting at the gates, reaching out, reaching deep for some kind of comfort even as the early diagnosis came in and overtook their lives in an unrelenting storm. Their love never waivered and neither did yours. Bad news hit them at every corner. It was a living nightmare for them. I don’t have to tell you that because, well, you were there.

You did what churches are supposed to do. You loved collectively, prayed earnestly, and you were there. Sometimes it’s the best thing we can do. Sometimes it’s the only thing.

With life in a free-fall for your pastor and his wife, you did what you could to make the landing not as bad as it maybe could have been for them and you did it by being there. You gave them space when it was needed and a comforting hug when that was needed. You cried out to God for them and kept them in your every prayer.

I know it was hard on you too, Church, and it will continue to be in the days ahead. But as my brother so often reminded you, we have a good, good father.

Our Good Father has used you, Church, to be a blessing. He did it by asking you to be there.

Whether it was bringing food every day since this horrible news came into their lives or the show of support exhibited at the funeral for sweet Pam on Tuesday, you were there. Phone calls, text messages, Facebook posts. It was you. You were there.

You have been at the center of their storm and helplessly watched for the past four months as Tim and Pam did their best to cope with a situation that we pray nobody has to ever experience. They were examples of courage and strength the likes of which clearly shows us that, yes, we serve a good, good father. Tim said it was the greatest message they would ever preach and he’s right.

When you didn’t know what to do, you did the only thing you could do.

You were there.

When my wife and I came up for a brief visit at the end of June, we didn’t once leave their welcoming home. We had a near revival in their living room with some straight talk. We experienced a closeness to God that makes you yearn for more. You made that possible, dear church, by providing meal after meal after meal.

You allowed Tim to put all of his focus, all of his energy, and all of his ministry into caring for Pam. Your staff stepped up for him, filling the pulpit with the same kind of great preaching that has come to be the norm at Fruit Cove. Your deacons led and kept the church on task with reaching the needs of a lost world. The church must keep that focus.

You took care of financial and physical needs for them. But it wasn’t just the food or even the money. It was the prayers, the encouragement, the cards and letters, the way you collectively wrapped loving arms around Tim and Pam that meant so much. I have been blessed by watching you, dear church.

You were there.

Always there.

We looked into your eyes on Tuesday as the receiving line curved through the auditorium with seemingly no end in sight. With photographs of Pam and Tim and their family playing on the walls behind us, we looked at your faces and felt the pain you were feeling too. You were hurting yet your compassion ministered to us.

The funeral was a Celebration of Life like I’ve never witnessed. It was two hours long and ended far too soon. Every seat was taken and every eye moist. God met with us in that place.

But you know all that because, well, you were there.