I was 11 years old, and I waited for an hour outside the locker room hoping to see players. The only one who came out before I had to go with my parents was LaVell. He saw me waiting, saw that I was disappointed he wasn't Bosco or Bellini or Morrell or Boyce or Sikahema or Koz. So he took his hat off as he went by and said "hey kid, want a hat?" and put it on my head.

I also think I got like $8 from other kids in Jackson Middle School in Albuquerque--quarters and dollar bills at a time. That was a fortune for me. (I bet the bank on that game with anyone who would take the other side of the bet. I guess Middle School kids didn't know to check the line.) I'm pretty sure I spent it all on baseball cards.