I have sometimes thought of Our Lord as the great conductor of His world, being the initial cause that orchestrates wonderful and glorious events. As I consider my life, I can clearly see evidence of this. Over 60 years ago, something happened that was a necessary precursor which allowed me to progress to this stage of my life. And I sincerely believe that God’s hand put that event into motion. That’s where “Spinner” enters the picture. 

I never had a big brother until 1955, when I met the Safety Patrol kid at his post on the corner of 63^rd Street and Buist Avenue in southwest Philadelphia. At the age of 11, Tommy Manieri was a gangly kid, almost six feet tall, which meant he towered over me, a skinny eight-year-old. We’d chat every day, and he soon invited me to join his baseball team, the Southwest Colts. That was the start of a friendship that has endured to this day, over six decades later. 

We had a lot of fun in those days. We would go to the matinee movies at the Benn Theater on Saturday afternoons. If you were under 13, the ticket cost you a quarter. If not, it was 35 cents. Tommy had to bring his birth certificate with him. Since he was so tall, the lady at the ticket window never believed he was only 11. Back in those days, the extra 10 cents bought a Tastykake Pie, so he didn’t mind going through the trouble of proving his age. There was also the time when we missed our ride to our baseball game. Tommy had a bike. I didn’t. So, without hesitation, he told me to get onto the handlebars, and he peddled the two miles to the ball field at 58^th Street and Whitby Avenue. Although he was a bit tired, he still got three hits in the game and made a great catch in center field. The ride home was a happy one. 

During the summer months, after engaging in some highly competitive games of stickball or half-ball, we would invariably climb the gray, wooden steps that led to the shaded landing at the rear of Tommy’s house. After drinking a tall glass of ice water dispensed from his mom’s large, glass pitcher, four of us would engage in a few games of Pinochle. This was strictly for bragging rights. In fact, I am still proud to say that, one afternoon, while playing against Tommy and our buddy, Franny Kehoe, my partner, Gary Teears, and I pulled a record 73-point hand, an amazing feat. I feel very confident that this record still stands after six decades, especially since no one has played cards up there for over 50 years. Another thing happened, in 1960, that has left a permanent mark on our friendship. One year earlier, the animated series Clutch Cargo began running in Philadelphia. Clutch, the protagonist, was the mentor to a young friend named “Spinner.” I thought that Tommy looked like Spinner, so I started calling him that. To this day, when I call him on the phone, it’s not “Hiya, Tom,” it’s, “Whaddya say, Spinner?” 

But Spinner was a special kid for another reason. His mom, Floy, his dad, Rocco, and his brother, Jerry, were all deaf. Spinner was hearing impaired but could hear with the help of hearing aids. Besides the ability to sign to communicate with his family, he was a wonderful lip-reader. Aside from the obvious practical benefits of this talent, it came in quite handy when we would watch a Phillies game on TV. On more than one occasion, Spinner would tell us what was being said during some great “rhubarbs” between Manager Gene Mauch and various umpires. This was really “inside baseball” stuff. 

As you can see, Spinner overcame a lot of adversity as a kid and, along with his family, was a person we all admired. He did not consider his physical impairment a handicap, it was just something to overcome and deal with. As our childhood years flew by, he met a sweet young lady from the neighborhood and became the first one of us to get married. He tied the knot with Margie Ronan in October of 1966 at the age of 21. After only a few years of married life, he would face his toughest challenge yet. In the spring of 1970, his beloved mother and brother were killed in an automobile accident on the Schuylkill Expressway. Jerry died on Valentine’s Day, and Floy lasted until March 14^th before she succumbed to her injuries. Her funeral is forever embedded in my mind, as I left that same day to travel to Clearwater, Florida, to begin my professional baseball career. That was a bittersweet flight. Throughout this ordeal, Spinner and Rocco were pillars of strength and dignity. 

Aside from my faith, the best things in my life, my family, my sales career, and many dear friends, are connected, either directly or indirectly, to my baseball career. Spinner was the person God sent to get that started. Always looking out for me, in 1964, he suggested that I borrow his beloved 1963 Corvair Monza for my driver’s test. He figured it would be much more maneuverable than my father’s big 1957 Dodge Coronet with no power steering. He was right, of course, and I passed the test on the first shot!  Nowadays, he lets me “borrow” his mind on a regular basis. You see, Spinner is also D. Thomas Manieri, tax accountant extraordinaire, based in Cape May Court House, New Jersey. We meet regularly for business and pleasure. After all of these years, Spinner is still taking care of the little kid he met on the corner of 63^rd and Buist Avenue. The only difference is, back then, he made it safe for me to cross the street. Now he makes it safe for me to file my tax return!

Charles Sacchetti is the author of two books, It’s All Good: Times and Events I’d Never Want to Change and his new book, Knowing He’s There: True Stories of God’s Subtle Yet Unmistakable Touch.   Both are available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and other online outlets. Contact him at Worthwhilewords21@gmail.com