Remembering Stan Johnson

Summer's only one day away, but summers have a way of slipping past us and leaving memories in their wake.

To some, summer is trips to the lake- boating, swimming, water skiing and not even minding that first sunburn of the season.

As sacrilegious as it may seem, I've never cared much for the lake- to me, summer is baseball. During my teen years I played baseball, began coaching Little League when I was only one year out of Little League and made money umpiring.

It broke my heart when East Newton High School dropped its baseball program when I was in eighth grade. I remember walking to the Midway ballpark and watching the Patriots play and I wanted nothing more than to play for the high school team.

In my wild imagination, I thought about getting a baseball scholarship and playing at some small college. I was never realistic about the limitations of my ability.

When I was 15, I saw a notice in the Joplin Globe sports section saying the Carthage Braves, a men's team, was needing teams to play. We put together a team of East Newton High School students and a couple of graduates, went to Carthage and were thoroughly embarrassed.

After two innings, the Braves manager told me we were done. His team would get more out of having a practice than playing us.

Still, our team, which played in Granby (and later some at Stella) persisted and one of those who helped bring some respectability to the team in its early years was Stan Johnson.

I was excited when Stan agreed to join the team, which by then was known as the Aroma Express. He was a pitcher, had a wicked curve ball and also could hit for power and he was one of those East Newton Patriots baseball players though the team was eliminated right before his senior year.

He also was one of the best teammates any of us ever had.

He hit more than a few home runs in those early years, but the hit I most remember was one that didn't quite make it out of the ballpark. We were playing at the Mickey Owen Baseball School near Miller when Stan crushed a fastball that crossed the heart of the plate and hit a towering drive to center field.

It was a thing of beauty to watch and Stan watched it from the batter's box. We had seen Stan hit the ball hard many times, but that may have been his crowning achievement. Unfortunately, it hit off the top of the center field wall, bounced back toward the center fielder and Stan ended up with a long single.

As much as I enjoy telling that story, Stan told it even better. He never minded having fun at his own expense.

Even though most us were only two or three years younger than Stan (and a couple were his age or a year or two older, he was the big brother to everyone on the team. He was the first one to congratulate someone on a good play and the first one to give someone a pat on the back when baseball's frequent frustrations hit home.

It was no surprise that he later found success coaching youth sports.

I saw Stan a couple of years ago at the Newtonia Fall Festival and, of course, we talked about baseball- the St. Louis Cardinals and our old Aroma Express team.

I hadn't seen him for a few years and it was great to talk baseball with him once again.

When I received an obituary notice for Stan Johnson Monday, at first I thought it might be someone else. The e-mail had the notice, but not the complete obituary. The background, however, featuring the St. Louis Cardinals, was confirmation that my old teammate had joined another league.

June 20 and the change of the season is right around the corner, but summer seems so far away.