You never know who you’ll meet at an AYF Olympics, whether it’s in Boston, Detroit, or California.
Oh sure, you’ll run across the usual people, like the home-towners you haven’t seen since the last Olympics, your cousin Aram from Cleveland, your old girlfriend Hasmig from Chicago, and what about Uncle Hamazasp from Florida?
Everyone gets together at an AYF Olympics and has a grand old time rekindling ties, not to mention making new acquaintances. It’s where friendships are made, cultivated, never worn out.
As they say, only at an AYF Olympics…
My son was eight and we were in Detroit for an event. My two older children were representing the Lowell chapter and, as a family should, we were there to support the kids, even with babies and toddlers in tow.
You might say all my children were weaned at an Olympics. They got to meet other youngsters and when they came of age, competed against them. Win or lose, they all became better Armenians through their experience, hopefully doing the same for their kids.
We were on an elevator going to the lobby when my son looked up and saw a baseball icon. The Chicago White Sox were in town to play the Detroit Tigers and there, standing right beside him, was Frank Thomas.
He looked up and nearly melted on the spot.
Like any kid his age, he patronized his heroes, whether they were members of the Boston Red Sox—our hometown favorites—or any other superstar of the game. Most certainly, a Frank Thomas.
After all, you’re talking about one of the greatest hitters in baseball with a .301 batting average, 2,468 hits, 521 homers, and 1,704 runs batted in. Before retiring in 2010, he had spent 15 years with Chicago and the next 5 years with 3 other clubs.
And there he was, riding in the same elevator with my son. The guy looked massive with bulging forearms like some lumberjack ready to clear out a forest.
All of a sudden, I felt a poke in my ribs, then a voice in my ear.
“Can we get his autograph, dad?”
“Absolutely,” I replied.
“G’wan and ask him.”
“If you want his autograph, you have to ask him,” I mandated.
“What if he won’t give me his autograph?”
“You’ll never know unless you approach him yourself, son.”
The elevator landed in the lobby. Out stepped Frank Thomas and before he could get to the door, my eager-eyed son ran up to him and begged his indulgence. Except for one thing. No paper or pen in hand.
The baseball giant waited patiently for my son to run to the desk and fetch the necessary items for his BIG moment. It was then that the baseballer shook his hand, said he was pleased to make his acquaintance, and encouraged him to follow his dreams.
The kid was a tee-ball player back home and couldn’t wait to share the news with his friends.
Some years later, we were in Providence for an Olympics and there, waiting for a ride outside the hotel, was Tiger Woods. The young golfing sensation was in town for the Deutsche Bank Tournament.
I was with AYF veteran Steve Dulgarian and asked if he wouldn’t mind posing with Tiger for a quick photo opportunity. The two of them stood side-by-side as Dulgarian put his arm over the golfer’s shoulders like they were buddy-buddy.
About the only place that photo found itself was inside an Armenian Weekly Olympics spread before being enlarged for the family portrait album and made into copies shared with family.
“What’s going on here?” Tiger asked.
“It’s the Armenian youth Olympics,” replied Dulgarian. “You know any Armenians?”
“Sure do,” he divulged. “Good people, the Armenians.”
On came Tiger’s limo and he was off in a wink. But the moment had left us an indelible memory of a chance encounter with a sports celebrity.
Tiger Woods was to become one of the greatest golfers ever to play the game. As for Frank Thomas, he was elected to baseball’s Hall-of-Fame Jan. 8 on the first ballot possible.
Tom Vartabedian
Latest posts by Tom Vartabedian (see all)
- Vartabedian: My Final Column - November 13, 2016
- A Hat to Match Any Occasion - October 19, 2016
- More Smiles Keep the Frowns Away - October 12, 2016
Be the first to comment