HUTSELL: Sharing a final memory of Stan

April 26, 2008 11:58 pm

— I’m going to start out today saying that I’m probably under qualified to sit down and write about Stan Sajko.
If there ever was a man that hundreds of different people could tell hundreds of different stories about, it surely would have to be the former New Albany High School baseball coach and athletic director who passed away early Wednesday morning.
I’ve only got one Stan Sajko story. I know, that’s a paltry number compared to his family and his former players. But it was one simple interaction I had with the man that I’ll always remember, and only gives a glimpse of why the old ball coach will be missed by so, so many.
Last summer, I got lucky. I got a phone call at my desk from a former New Albany player telling me some guys were getting together to pay tribute to their former coach at his church in New Albany.
It wasn’t a fancy ceremony at all, just a collection of old baseball players sharing a few old wise tales. It was supposed to be a surprise, but they asked me to come share the experience and to keep the whole thing pretty hush, hush.
I drove to Central Christian Church that Saturday not knowing what to expect. What I saw when I got there was a day that you could see simply meant everything to the 86-year-old, a moment that almost brought tears to his eyes.
Players flew in from everywhere — Texas, Tennessee, Chicago. They didn’t hesitate to stop in and say hello and thank you — simply because a lot of them felt they never would be where they were in life if not for the sometimes surly but always caring manager that would bend over backward to do anything for his players.
You could see the surprise in Stan’s face the minute he walked through that basement door. He was greeted with a uproarious applause and a few handshakes. The emotion spilled into his eyes almost immediately.
As I sat there and listened to all those players tell all those stories about the time Stan Sajko made a wisecrack about their batting average, I sat and watched the coach’s face. He smiled a lot, laughed a few times, covered his eyes a few times (maybe trying to hide a tear or two).
I left that day and felt like I wrote a stinker. Didn’t think I captured the moment and almost felt like I let down the guys who organized the whole event.
That story ran on Sunday, and I still believed it was horrible until around 3 p.m. the next Monday. That’s when my phone rang at my desk and Stan Sajko was on the other line.
I’ll never forget the words — ever — even long after I get reassigned to typing Little League linescores for the rest of my life.
Stan Sajko simply said “thanks.” And then said that day meant everything to him and he’ll “always remember that day thanks to what I wrote.” He told me he was glad he got to meet me, and he looked forward to seeing me again soon “so he could shake my hand.”
I never saw the coach again after that day. Never had the pleasure of that handshake or a chance to say thanks to him face-to-face.
Now’s my chance to say it again though — thanks Stan.
Like many of those players who were at the church that Saturday, those few hours will serve as the final memory of the man they called “Coach.”
To me at least, that’s a memory that will last a lifetime.
Contact Mike Hutsell at mike.hutsell@newsandtribune.com.

Photos

Mike Hutsell

Stan Sajko address the group.