Dale Fehringer--An Act Of Kindness

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. - Aesop

Sometimes a small act of kindness can be remembered for a lifetime. That's what happened to Dale in 1999.

This is a story about baseball and about Willie Mays, one of baseball’s greatest center fielders. It's also about kindness and faith in your fellow humans. It's going to take a little while to get to that second part, so I ask for your patience. I'll get there.

The story starts in 1999. I remember the year because it’s when Candlestick Park shut down. The new ballpark, originally called Pacific Bell Park, opened in San Francisco a year later. By that time Willie Mays (the “Say Hey Kid”) had long since retired (1973) after 23 seasons of superb baseball. He was an All-Star 24 times and was the first player to hit 30 home runs and steal 30 bases in a single season. He hit 660 home runs (fourth best) and would probably have hit more if he didn't have to bat against the Candlestick wind. He was named to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1979 and served as advisor and special ambassador for the Giants until he passed away June 18, 2024.

I wasn’t sad Candlestick Park was shutting down. Day games were typically blustery and dusty (I remember seeing the wind blow the cowboy hat off Charlie Daniel’s head during a concert), and night games were so cold fans who stayed till the end of extra-inning games were rewarded for their bravery with buttons called "Croix de Candlestick". Despite those conditions, I loved watching the Giants play, even at Candlestick Park. And Patty and I started dating there and fell in love because of the Giants, so it was a special place for us!

We arrived early for our last game at Candlestick Park to watch the pre-game activities. The Giants brought out several former players and drove them around the field in convertibles. Willie Mays was in one of those cars, and he threw a few autographed baseballs into the crowd as souvenirs. I caught one. It's the centerpiece of my small collection of Giants souvenirs, along with tickets from three Giants’ World Series championships, a Barry Zito bobblehead, and a Will Clark autograph.

I received congratulations from the fans sitting around us after I caught the ball from Willie Mays, including from the guy sitting behind us. He introduced himself as Dave and asked if he could take our photo holding the ball. I agreed and he did, with his camera. (This was 1999, before camera phones were prevalent). He said he would develop the photo and mail a copy to me, so we exchanged business cards and sat down to watch the game.

Months went by and I forgot about Dave and the photo. Then one day our phone rang. It was Dave, who reminded me who he was and apologized for not sending the photo. He had moved, he said, and the roll of film had gotten lost in the shuffle. I told him it wasn’t a problem, that I wasn’t in a hurry for the photo. (To be honest, I had forgotten he had taken it.) He assured me he would develop it and send it to me.

More months went by, and again I forgot about Dave and the photo. By now the new ballpark had opened and a new baseball season was underway. Sometime during that season our phone rang again. It was Dave. He had developed the photo and would like to get it to me. Could we meet somewhere? We checked our schedules – he was going to be in San Francisco for a couple of Giants ballgames, and by chance we were scheduled to attend the same game. “Great!” he said, “I’ll bring it to the stadium and call you when I get there (cellphones were common by then) and we can arrange a time and place to meet.”

When the day came, we went to the game with our friends Ken and Vicki. The four of us were waiting just inside the stadium when Dave called. We agreed to meet near the concession stands. We hung out at the appointed spot waiting for Dave, but he didn’t show and we gave up and went to our seats. He finally called and said Security wouldn't let him bring the photo in because it was too large. Instead, he proposed to meet after the game at his car in Parking Lot A.

Hmm ... “Too large?” “Meet at his car?”

What was going on? What type of sinister trick was this? Was Dave going to ask for money? Was he going to hold me up?

The four of us discussed the possibilities and at one point decided we wouldn't risk it; we'd skip meeting Dave and head home after the game. But curiosity took over, and we decided to see what would happen – we figured the four of us could handle him.

I admit I was a little nervous when we approached Parking Lot A and saw a man standing next to the car Dave had described. It was just one average-sized guy, and he didn’t look terribly threatening, so we approached him. He stuck out his hand and introduced himself. I vaguely recognized him. He apologized again for taking so long to get the photo to me and said he hoped I would like it. He walked to the back of his car, opened the door, reached in, and took out a framed 14” x 16” photo of Patty and me (and the autographed baseball) in our Giants shirts, holding the signed ball from Willie Mays and smiling like we’ve just won the lottery, which in a way we had.

I was so occupied with admiring the photo I didn't notice when Dave reached back into his car and took out another framed photo, this one of Willie Mays in a Giants uniform in the back of a convertible – just about to throw the baseball I caught.

Photo courtesy of the author.

Dave handed the second photo to me and said he hoped I would enjoy it. He watched the surprise on my face as I realized what he had done, then he shook my hand, closed his car door, got in, and drove off. We were left in Parking Lot A, admiring the photos.

Today, those two photos reside in a prime position in my office where I can see them every time I enter or leave. Every time I see them, I think of Willie Mays and what an outstanding Giant he was, both as a player and an advocate. I also think of Dave, and I’m impressed with what a kind and generous guy he was. We didn’t stay in touch, and I haven’t heard from him. I hope he’s well and I hope he’s still a Giants fan.

It turned out Dave did me two favors – he recorded my brush with Willie Mays, and he reminded me that no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.