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I admit, Ken and I were greatly anticipating meeting actor Denzel Washington Saturday night at the Rye Town Hilton in Rye Brook, N.Y., as hubby was slated to receive the 'Denzel Lifetime Achievement in Sports' award from the Boys Club Girls Club (BCGC) of Mount Vernon. And, I admit, I feel much disappointment 24 hours later.

Turned out Denzel didn't show up to host the gala for reasons which event organizers are unsure. And it turned out Ken was rewarded in more distinctive ways Saturday evening than receiving the beautiful glass trophy or hobnobbing with Hollywood. He mingled, and reacquainted, with many of his childhood friends from his (and Denzel's) hometown of Mount Vernon - some of whom he hadn't seen since he left to play pro ball. He was touched particularly when folks approached him to say they knew his parents, the late Joe and Lucille Singleton.

"That made the whole night worthwhile," said Ken.

Actors Danny Glover and JB Smoove (of Curb Your Enthusiasm) provided the glitzy Hollywood component as they stepped on stage to stand in for Denzel. Learning about the mission of BCGC - and seeing so many alumni among the 600 guests - provided the inspiration.

"Our town was like the perfect place to grow up," said Ken. It was a melting pot ... one-third Jewish, one-third Italian, and one-third black. People worked together. The schools were excellent, the recreation opportunities were wonderful, and it was close to New York City."

The mission of this national nonprofit organization is to fight juvenile delinquency by helping youth, especially from high-risk neighborhoods, to make the most of their lives, with objectives to build self esteem, nurture talent, and contribute to society on personal paths to success.

When Ken was growing up, the club was situated a half mile from the Singleton's house on Seneca Avenue (the house was sold to them by former Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher Ralph Branca). The BCGC facility was a place Ken and his brother Fred sometimes utilized as boys; a safe place in which to play in a weekend basketball league and socialize with their neighborhood peers.

Decades later as it celebrates its 100 year anniversary in Mount Vernon, on South 6th Street, it offers even greater and more intricate programs and growth opportunities for kids than it did in the 1950's.

Little did the Mount Vernon BCGC founders know they would churn out Hollywood actors, pro athletes, entertainers, senators, and a New York Yankees announcer. And little did the young boys and girls of Mount Vernon families know they possessed the potential to grow into fine people who could achieve impressive careers.

"Every child follows a path in life," said Lowes Moore, executive director. "For many, that path will lead them to a door that gives them a place to grow, to learn, to belong, and a place to forge their future."

It's Sunday around supper time. Ken, the teens, and I just arrived home from N.Y. and lugged our suitcases upstairs. As I stopped to blow a kiss to my in-law's' smiling photograph kept in my walk-in closet, I thought about how much they would have enjoyed attending the gala last night with us ... yes, because they were always so proud of Ken and Fred, yet also to greet old friends, and to be in New York near where they raised a family and set fine examples of how to make a life successful instead of wasteful.

And I know for Joe & Lucille, a.k.a. "Ma" and "Pop," the evening would have been superb - with or without Hollywood.

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The Singleton family acknowledges and appreciates:

1) The incredible support of the YES NETWORK, particularly John Filipelli, Ashley Fugazy, and Eric Handler, who attended the gala in support of their co-worker Ken, and arranged YES' involvement with the gala by sponsoring a table and program ad.

2) The other five honorees who received Denzel Lifetime Achievement awards: NY State Senator Malcolm Smith; Mount Vernon Kiwanis member Rosemary Cornacchio; the late John Branca (educator, coach, commissioner); WCBS-2's meterologist Elise Finch; and the late Butch Lewis (boxing and entertainment promoter).

3) The Boys Club Girls Club of Mount Vernon, its staff and the gala committee, for choosing Ken to receive this award and hosting our family that evening. Thank you.

Death sure has been reaching out its long pasty fingers too often lately to the baseball world. Here we are as fans and friends once again saying farewell to a legend too young to die.

I mostly remember Gary Carter and his wife, Sandy, from our days in Montreal in the 1990s, when Ken was a radio and TV broadcaster for the Expos (85-'96). Such nice, nice, nice people, those Carters, always offering smiles and kind words, in the tunnel under Olympic Stadium after the games; or in the stands with Sandy and our kids in the family section watching games together.

We have bumped into the Carters sporadically over the years in the baseball world; one of the more exciting places was in Cooperstown, N.Y. when Gary was inducted into the Hall of Fame along with Eddie Murray (2003).

"He was a fan favorite," said Ken from our home on a radio interview via phone to a station in Toronto, as a SportsCenter story about Gary aired low-volume on the TV in the background. "His personality was infectious. He was the same way every day." 

Ken and Gary were brief teammates in 1974 -- for a month to be exact -- as Gary the rookie was called up in September from the Minor Leagues while Ken played out his last month as an Expo; Ken was traded to Baltimore that winter.

"You could see the promise in him as a player," said Ken, "even for the short time when we were on the same team. Gary played probably the toughest position on the field and he did it well for a long time. It is rightly so that he's in the Hall of Fame."

Over the years Ken and Gary played against each other during Spring Training games and a few All-Star Games (there wasn't interleague play back then), and it was back in Canada where they met up once again with Ken in a different role. He had entered his second career as a baseball broadcaster, doing play-by-play on the radio in Montreal and color analyst on TV for TSN (The Sports Network).

"We were around each other every day," said Ken. "When Gary came back to Montreal he was already a star. He was on the back end of what would become his Hall of Fame career. Since I had seen him at his beginning, now I was watching him at the end of his career, too. He still played with the same rookie enthusiasm."

In the baseball world, like in life, people weave in-and-out-and-in-and-out of our lives. Gary and Ken were acquainted once again in 2009 when he invited Gary to participate in the Ken Singleton Golf Classic in Baltimore -- a major fundraiser for the Cool Kids Campaign for which Ken serves on its board and I serve as part-time marketing coordinator.

"I was appreciative of his playing in the tournament," said Ken. "I had called him; he agreed to play. We were very fortunate to have had Gary come up from Florida to participate. It was a wonderful gesture -- that's the way he was."

We all heart-melt over a good non-profit cause, especially when we are face-to-face with the people so passionately standing behind it.

At the eighth annual Cal Ripken Sr. Foundation Aspire Gala February 10 in Baltimore, Cal and brother Billy Ripken, founders of this organization (ripkenfoundation.org) in honor of their father, described how they help to get kids off drug-infested streets in less desirable neighborhoods around the country, and onto baseball fields to otherwise divert their attention.

"We use baseball as a hook," said Cal in front of an enormous audience of supporters in a downtown Baltimore hotel, in an Academy Award kind of setting, to get young kids in distressed communities off the street and onto the field so they can be influenced by better factors – and people – than the illicit activities of drugs, crime and violence.

The Ripken brothers led the evening’s program to honor four amazing individuals: Yankees first baseman Mark Teixiera; former NFL player O.J. Brigance; and philanthropists Patty and Jay Baker (she is a Broadway producer and he president of Kohl's) – truly a power couple who have donated millions to various educational and nonprofit causes.

Honorees are selected from the fields of sports, business and entertainment and recognized for their leadership, dedication to their field, and commitment to philanthropy.

Teixiera joked that he hasn't been applauded in Baltimore since 2008. It's that 'good cause' uniformity among human beings that wouldn't allow a roomful of mostly Baltimoreans to boo a Yankee in their precious Oriole territory.

Describing a 'give-back' example his dad "Tex" set when Teixiera was in high school and had won a $5,000 raffle, he had asked, "What are we gonna buy with the money, Dad?" John Teixiera took his son to purchase a riding lawn mower that would allow better grooming of the baseball field at Mount St. Joseph, Teixiera’s high school in Baltimore. Before that, he said, players pitched in to groom the field using push mowers.

Teixiera is instrumental championing for Harlem RBI in Manhattan (harlemrbi.org), an organization that provides inner-city youth with opportunities to play, learn and grow by using the power of teams to coach, teach and inspire youth to recognize their potential and realize their dreams. Teixiera said it's not what he does on the field that counts as an example to youth - sure that's important - it's what he does off the field that matters more. He and Cal share the same softhearted spot in their philosophy towards kids across America who would not ordinarily have a chance to play baseball as they attempt to exit their incomprehensible negative daily existences.

That was enough to touch each of our hearts in the audience. Then a video played on the two large screens to our right and left in preparation for the next honoree, Brigance, who was diagnosed in 2007 with ALS, more widely known as Lou Gehrig's disease. This merciless disease causes Brigance to be immobilized as his muscles have frozen up, practically laying vertical in a complicated cumbersome wheelchair, an air tube noticeably snaking over his right shoulder and disappearing into the front of his suit. He is unable to speak and instead, conveyed his inspiring speech through a computer attached to his wheelchair that 'speaks' for him; his beautiful wife Chanda stood by his side on stage after addressing the awestruck audience.

Together the couple launched the Brigance Brigade (brigancebrigade.org), which raises awareness of this debilitating disease and helps those who cannot afford it to purchase the very expensive equipment needed to keep them alive.

Teixiera … the Ripkens … the Bakers … the Brigances – they all have the right idea, good direction and full-size hearts. Standing behind good causes takes extraordinary types of people … and they are the Aspire Award honorees of the Cal Ripken Sr. Foundation.

We don’t think much about never seeing someone again when we part ways, matter-of-factly saying “See you later,” because we expect that we will.

Ken shook Mike Flanagan’s hand in that same fashion as they parted ways at New York’s Penn Station July 31 after the Orioles played the Yankees and the friends shared a car from the stadium. 

Ken said to him, “I’ll see you when we get to town.” [Baltimore]

It was no different than the way Ken parted with a baseball friend countless other times, knowing their paths will cross soon again in the baseball world.

“That was the last time I saw him,” said an upset Ken about his longtime friend and former Orioles teammate who took his life August 24 behind his house in Baltimore County.

Over 14 years, we have passed the Flanagans’ historic farmhouse hundreds of times as we drove in and out of our neighborhood 1.5 miles east. And almost every time I look at their house, I recall his wife, Alex, once telling me she had experienced a few incidents inside to indicate it may be haunted.

This week, ghosts are furthest from my mind as I look up the hill at their stone house. Instead, I shake my head about the evil thoughts and feelings that haunted such a decent, funny, and nice man enough for him to do what no human being ever should do to himself.

Of course Ken and Mike’s other former teammates – many of them still residing here in Baltimore – are reeling from this tragedy, mindful of course that none of them are quite as affected as Mike’s wife and three daughters.

“Flanny” has been a part of Ken’s life and career since 1975. After returning tonight from Camden Yards since the Yankees are in town, Ken said the mood on the press level was obviously solemn. Where he normally would have bumped into Mike (an Orioles broadcaster), there was no Mike. Only a group of very sad colleagues sorely missing Flanagan’s presence, maybe silently wishing they could have personally helped their friend before he hurt himself.

“This is not easy,” said Ken. “I played with Flanny for 10 years. He was a fantastic teammate, a trusted teammate. Not only was he a good pitcher, he was a good person, and that translated throughout the team.”

Before Thursday's game, the Yankees paid tribute to Flanagan with a moment of silence, showing his photo on the center field scoreboard. Prior to tonight's game, the Orioles held a moment of silence in Flanagan’s memory with a video tribute. His uniform number 46 was posted on the out-of-town scoreboard in right field.

“It was a very nice tribute,” Ken said, moments after he walked in the house. “Everyone was crying.” 

Mike is already missed, yet he is haunted no longer

It's always distressing to hear about a human being making the choice to end his life, and sadder still when it was someone with whom you had once enjoyed an interaction.

Hideki Irabu committed suicide July 28 in his Los Angeles home.

When Hideki was a Yankee, Ken and I once ate lunch with him and his translator, George Rose, at our favorite sushi restaurant here in Baltimore. Hideki’s translator travelled everywhere with him, since the player spoke few words in English.

The use of a translator is quite an interesting conversation method – a matter of trust in all three parties. As sushi lovers, Ken and I trusted Hideki as well as we gingerly tasted the pieces of eel which he had recommended.

Sushi aside, I do not know what dreadful demons Hideki faced that were consuming enough as to cause him to find a noose, however, I do know that whatever nationality we are and whichever language we speak … depression is depression, despair is despair, and tragedy is tragedy. There are no words for that.

“I found that my interactions with Hideki were very interesting,” said Ken. “He was an interesting man, not outgoing, just always observing. Everything seemed new to him. For us to have had that lunch with him and his interpreter helped me to view him in a completely different light. That was a nice afternoon.”

Ken added that it’s sad to see someone give up hope.

To his family, to his friends, to his fans … Ken and I extend our sympathetic thoughts. We hope Hideki has found his peace.

Rarely do I watch television, and oh boy, am I glad for that since I didn’t have to repeatedly watch that poor soul of a baseball fan fall to his death while trying to catch a baseball at Texas Rangers Ballpark last week.

I’ve always thought it in poor taste when the media sensationalizes the news by accompanying it with shocking video. I don't care if the image doesn't show the impact – we all have imaginations. Now it’s plastered all over the Internet.

Where's the compassion and respect for the Stone family? And for firefighter Shannon Stone's six-year-old boy who witnessed the horrific catastrophe and probably has a repetitive visual loop in his mind of his daddy falling. It's unnecessary to show it at all. Mr. Stone may not have died on the spot, but he did die. And that’s all anyone posting video needs to know to show respect for him and his family.

I wish I had the power to unplug each and every unsightly image from this massive monster we call the Internet, images which seem to satiate the morbid curiosity of human beings who want to watch someone fall to his death. Even as I googled the story to write this, I refused to hit “play” on any of the videos. I don’t want to watch it once; I don’t want to watch it 17 times.

And now this got me started … for only 16 minutes the game was halted. Really? A mishap that shocked an entire ballpark into silence. A visual that had fans, umpires, players and coaches stunned and traumatized as they observed the plunge. After the field “was cleared,” normalcy resumed – and everyone was okay with that?

What if it had been a player to meet his demise in a ballpark? I fail to see how anyone could have possibly concentrated after that, especially outfielder Josh Hamilton who innocently tossed the ball.

In an ESPN story online, Texas Ranger Michael Young said “it was a pretty disturbing visual. I saw the whole thing. When he was about halfway down, I turned my head. I couldn't watch anymore.”

Yet plenty of people since then have watched – and watched – and watched. 

No, don’t show us a dying man. Show us compassion instead.

Are nicknames named after “Nick,” another name for Nicholas? Who knows, but nicknames can be fun. My friend’s husband calls me “Queen” and in high school I was “Bigfoot.” Close friends call me “Suz” and as you can see here, I’m nicknamed “Mrs. Singy” after hubby Ken Singleton’s nickname bestowed on him decades ago by Orioles teammates.

Nicknames have always been common in the sports world. The 1900’s played “Wee Willie” Keeler since he was little; and thinking way back to the late 1800’s, there was a Major Leaguer nicknamed “Death to Flying Things” – Bob Ferguson’s nickname derived from his greatness as a defensive player. And the most famous nickname of all was “The Babe” for George Herman Ruth. No more needs to be said about that.

“We all had nicknames,” said Ken. “But nicknames nowadays are more a derivative of the player’s name instead of their talent.”

There was “Cakes” for Jim Palmer because he ate pancakes on the days that he pitched, being that pitchers tend to be superstitious, “Blade” for the late Mark Belanger because he was so skinny and “El Presidente” for pitcher Dennis Martinez, the first player in the big leagues to hail from Nicaragua.

“I gave him that nickname,” said Ken, “and it stuck.”

Another teammate, Tony Chavez, was nicknamed “Visa Presidente” (as in vice president). The team used to tease Dennis and Tony by asking, “Who’s watching the country while you guys are away?”

There was “Little Boomer” for teammate Al Bumbry, one of Ken’s best friends, nicknamed after Boomer Scott of the Boston Red Sox because both wore similar puka shell necklaces in style at the time.

A few interesting nicknames around the league that Ken remembers as a kid -- he was a Giants fan and his father, Joe Singleton, was a Dodgers fan -- were Willie “Puddinhead” Jones (Phillies third baseman in the ‘50’s), Eldon John “Rip” Repulski (Phillies outfielder; Cal Ripken Jr. also was called “Rip” by Ken and teammates) and George “Foghorn” Myatt (Phillies third base coach), “because he had a real deep voice,” said Ken, “like the cartoon character Foghorn Leghorn.”

There was “Rocket” (Roger Clemens) and “Dominican Dandy” (Juan Marichal, a Hall of Fame pitcher for the Giants) who Ken liked growing up and “got to play against later. I hit two homeruns off him.”

“The Bird” was a Detroit Tigers pitcher, the late Mark Fidrych because he looked like the Sesame Street character Big Bird. Ken said he used to talk to the ball to tell it what to do and he got on his hands and knees to arrange the mound.

“The Wizard” was Ozzie Smith “because he was a great fielder,” said Ken, and “The Kid” was Gary Carter because “he was enthusiastic like a kid.”

Andre Dawson was nicknamed “The Hawk” since he ran everything down and “The Cobra” had a quick strike in Dave Parker. “Pops” was Willie Stargell since he was older than some players, and Terry Crowley was “The King of Swing” as a good pinch hitter.

Coming up to speed in 2011 around the Yankees clubhouse, Derek Jeter is known by the players as either “Jetes” or “The Captain” because he’s captain of the team. Alex Rodriquez was first to be called “A-Rod” by the late Dave Neihaus, Seattles Mariner broacaster, when Alex first started with Seattle. Mark Teixeira is “Tex” just like his father John’s nickname. Nick Swisher is simply known as “Swish,” Mariano Rivera is “Mo,” and there’s “Grandy” for Curtis Granderson.

Then there are players who have built-in nicknames like “A.J.” for Allan James Burnett and “CC” for Carsten Charles Sabathia.

Freddy Garcia is called “The Chief” since he resembles the character of the same name in the movie “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

“Nicknames are like a term of endearment,” said Ken, “they’re less formal. It shows that you appreciate the player – the teammate – and are willing to give him a name.”

It’s always amusing when it’s a little old lady who’s a baseball fan -- Ken gets a real kick out of that. His grandmother, Quinella, was a Chicago Cubs fan until she died of old age at 101.

Rosie Apicella, 82, met Ken at the bocce courts in Little Italy, Baltimore, during my Tuesday night bocce league. Ken had tagged along to watch our team of Molino cousins -- team “CUGINI” (translates to cousins in Italian) -- but he never had the chance to watch because Rosie found him.

And when Rosie found him, she talked baseball. A lot of baseball. Mostly Yankees – Rosie is a colossal Yankees fan. And in a town that has its own baseball team, especially Baltimore fans true to their O’s, that’s sometimes surprising. 

She knew it was Derek Jeter’s birthday the other day and that he was 37. She likes Robinson Cano. She knew Nick Swisher was starting to get hot. (As Ken continued to report the current score vs. Milwaukee from his iPhone for Rosie, Swisher had hit a home run.)

“She knew more about the Yankees than I did!” Ken joked.

During Rosie’s storytelling, she relayed one memory of a trip to New York to the old Yankee Stadium with her husband to see Joe DiMaggio play. “The Yankees lost,” she said.

“When Joe played,” Ken said, “there were no Orioles, so she had to root for someone. I don't blame her. He was a great player. Everybody liked him. Joe was the most popular baseball player and as you would expect, he had a huge Italian following.”

Once she cooked dinner for Orioles Jeremy Guthrie when he used to live in Little Italy. She met him as he pedaled past her house on a bike and they got to talking. “I was the only one who recognized him,” she said. “He called me Rosinda.”

Ken enjoyed his chat with Rosie. “She’s a very enthusiastic and tremendous baseball fan,” he said, “A very nice lady.”

She’s also one of the better bocce players in Little Italy. She knows all about that sport, too – one she has been playing for most of her life. In the old days the Italian men wouldn’t let girls play, but later Rosie helped to form the first all-female bocce team in Little Italy.

The dark clouds rolled in faster than we could roll bocce balls that night and it began to rain. Rosie flashed a crooked smile Ken’s way as she dashed off to her row house a few blocks over.

“I'm gonna go finish watching the Yankee game,” she said.  

I’m not sure where Pinocchio ended up after he lied in Storybook Land all those decades ago, but a gentleman nicknamed Geppetto is alive and well, not in a small Italian village, but in Geppetto’s Wood Shoppe in West Monroe, N.Y.

With wood chips flying around his workshop, it’s not a nose-growing puppet that Chuck “Geppetto” Nepage carves, rather, statuettes of NY Yankees’ pitchers and batters.

These cleverly-designed figurines are the latest of attention-grabbing items received in hubby Ken Singleton’s fan mail, graciously sent by this Yankee fan, almost enough to make a team – he sent eight – pitchers, hitters, and two golfers (to appeal to Ken’s second greatest passion).

Looking at one side of his four-inch tall statuette reveals a silhouette (a hitter, a pitcher), and when the statuette is turned a quarter, the NY logo is visible. It’s an ingenious design if you ask me, even though the only figurine I’ve ever carved was a stocky three-inch squirrel in ninth-grade woodshop.

“These must have taken a lot of time and energy to do something so meticulous,” said Ken. “They’re great!”

Chuck doesn’t take all the credit for the design. He and his wife, Nancy, collaborate in designing various pieces to carve, from religious to sports statuettes and everything in between.

“Nancy will bring an idea out to my one-man wood shoppe for me to try,” said Chuck. “I think she is just trying to challenge me.”

After the layout stage, “Geppetto” is ready to cut, using a scroll saw, which “takes a fair amount of concentration and patience,” he said. One NY statuette takes about an hour.

A hobbyist in crafting from wood, Chuck decided to advance his pastime into a business two years ago. “The figurines are the smallest items I make,” he said. “I also build custom mailboxes and whirligigs, but my favorite things to build are the covered wagons, buckboards and stagecoaches.” (see photos)

In the New York State Fair parade in Syracuse, Chuck enters his full-size stagecoach, with a handcrafted Pinocchio as the driver. As highlighted on his letterhead, his designs are “limited only by your imagination and physics.”

And that’s no lie.

(e-mail Chuck Nepage at geppettoswoodshoppe@gmail.com)

For those of you who have had the magical delight of visiting Disney World, you are familiar with the zillions of Mickey Mouse ears replicated around the various parks. EVERYTHING takes on the silhouette of Mickey ears –- from the giant roadside water tower nearest Magic Kingdom, to the meticulously groomed shrubbery nestled amongst the flawless landscaping; from the fun-to-eat pancakes at breakfast to the multi-colored lollipops in the gift shops.

Mickey ears are everywhere.

I figured a repeated logo of such magnitude existed nowhere else … until I stepped into Yankee Stadium. The Yanks may have trumped Disney in the logo department.

A less-than-exciting nine innings during a Friday night Texas vs. New York game propelled me out of my blue stadium seat toward more interesting sights and sounds -– into the Yankees store. (Sorry, but shopping is more stimulating sometimes than baseball.)

Now, having listened to hubby Ken Singleton talk baseball for over 20 years has introduced many a crazy “who cares?” stat which baseball delivers like no other sport. From monumental to trifling, stats are recorded, like the fact that Jarrod Saltalamacchia's name holds the record for the most alphabet letters of any Major Leaguer’s name in baseball history … or that the average life of a baseball in the Majors is six pitches. Things like that.

So here's a stat Mrs. Singy would be curious to hear ... how many times is the NY logo replicated throughout Yankee Stadium? Certainly, the number would be unattainable, similar to attempting a count of sand grains on a beach, or how many times players touch their crotches during a game.

NY logos are everywhere. Imprinted on EVERYTHING. From the jumbo photos in the Great Hall to the individual sugar pack sprinkled into my coffee in an attempt to warm up during that 47-degree game as I left my lime green Yankees jacket home.

I'd venture to speculate that no place else exists as many logos under one roof. Might anyone like to start counting? It may take a few years.

Now that would make a good stat.

While watching the Jackie Robinson Day ceremony at Yankee Stadium April 15, our friend Joe commented about the current players,"These guys have no idea what black players went through back then," as the Rangers and Yankees each donned the number 42 for the night (as did all MLB players) in commemoration of the man who changed baseball.

Joe's comment inspired me to ask my husband, Ken Singleton, on the ride back to the hotel after the game: What was it like as an African-American to play baseball in the 1960's?

"I'm not comparing what I experienced to what African-Americans and Hispanic players went through before me -- because they did all the heavy lifting," said Ken, "but it wasn't great sometimes. It was obvious in some of these cities that people weren't happy that black and Latino players were there -- in their manner of speaking or the way they looked at us. They weren't nice. It didn't happen everywhere, but it did in certain places."

Ken played in the New York Mets' Minor League system 1967-1970 before rising up to the big leagues and never looking back: Winter Haven Florida (A); Raleigh Durham North Carolina (A); Vasalia California (A); Memphis Tennessee (AA) and Jacksonville Florida (AAA)).

Although he was never the only black player on a team 20 years after Robinson paved the color warpath, Ken was one of just a few. Growing up in integrated New York City schools prepared him to "learn how to get along with everyone," he said, as a student of Graham Junior High School and Mt. Vernon High School. "I had all different kinds of friends: Italian, Jewish, Black, Hispanic."

As an Expo, Ken had the good fortune once to meet Jackie Robinson in Jarry Park in Montreal (where the Brooklyn Dodgers had first sent Robinson to Triple-A).
 
"I was taking batting practice and he came onto the field," said Ken. "I was tongue-tied. This guy was a legend! I was so nervous I was shaking. This was Jackie Robinson!"

As a right fielder, Ken recalls many a mean taunt from opposing fans jeering from the stands. "Fans yell stuff about your parents or your playing ability," he said, "They call out, 'You stink! You suck!' Not everyone at the ballpark is rooting for you."

Those incidents were mild compared to what Jackie Robinson went through as the only black player in the entire league. "I don't know how he was able to do it," said Ken.

Pitchers threw at Robinson (called up in 1947), opponents tried to spike him, fans insulted him, and Robinson received death threats; i.e, he would be killed if he showed up at a ballpark. He was unable to lodge at the same hotel as his teammates. Robinson took all the heavy barbs for black players of the future.

"He had to hold his tongue -- he must have been a very strong man," said Ken. "He was told he couldn't fight back -- that he would have to take it. He was aware of the situation and where his success could lead to -- not only personally -- but for all black players. Jackie Robinson was a social experiment for the whole country, and it paid off in baseball. If Robinson had failed, it would have set the country back many years. Who knows how long it would have taken to give another black player a chance?"

All of baseball owes this guy a debt of gratitude since baseball today is international, housing Hispanics, Europeans, Asians, Americans -- to name a few -- and certainly, scores of African-Americans.

Ken is convinced, as are many others in baseball, that "Robinson made the game better."

Welcome to the new home Mrs. Singy: Married to Baseball.

Mrs. Singy has been blogging with the YESNetwork since April 2009. To view her archived blog entries, simply click here.