Saying Goodbye to a Friend
It is with great sadness that I’m saying goodbye to the man who became my friend and most trusted baseball card trader. I never met Mike Augusto in person; there were three-thousand miles between us. I didn’t know what he did for a living, where he stood politically, if he was a man of faith or if he had a family. Our friendship existed in a place that made those details irrelevant. We were baseball fans in general and baseball card buddies in particular, comrades in the colorful world of cardboard magic. We met on Facebook and over the years formed a friendship that went deep and included humor, a commitment to fairness, honesty and respect. We cheered for each other’s teams. I was happy for Mike every time his Red Sox won championships, and when my Mets somehow blundered into the 2015 World Series, he pulled for me.
We communicated over the Messenger feature, discussing the game and sharing stories about our teams and various players. A story that I shared with Mike comes to mind concerning one such player, Pedro Guerrero. Breaking into the majors in 1978, Guerrero was a good hitting, poor fielding third baseman for the Los Angeles Dodgers. The Dodgers were a very good club at the time, with seasoned players who worked hard, played the game the right way and usually made the post season. In 1982, young second baseman Steve Sax became an integral part of this winning mix. He was an All Star player who had a strong arm, good range in the field, could steal a base and got on base with consistency. These Dodgers were managed by Tommy Lasorda, an outgoing man with a larger than life personality who upon occasion could unleash a mighty temper.
In 1983, Sax inexplicably lost the ability to throw the ball accurately to first base. No one could figure out why this was going on. These were routine throws that any major league player could make in his sleep. People said it was a case of “the yips.” Some remarked that it was a mental issue because nothing appeared to be wrong with his arm. But for Dodgers fans, this was a sorry development, because they now had two liabilities in their infield, Sax at second and Guerrero at third. At was during this period of time that Guerrero, doing his butchering best, had one particularly putrid game at third base, and Lasorda exploded. After the game, the two had a verbal exchange that went something like this:
Lasorda: “What the hell are you thinking out there?”
Guerrero: “You really want to know?”
Lasorda: “Yeah! I really want to know!”
Guerrero: “OK. First, I’m preying they don’t hit the ball to me.”
Lasorda: “There’s more?”
Guerrero: “Yeah. Second, I’m preying they don’t hit the ball to Steve Sax!”
I always have bunches of baseball cards on hand. I have a tendency to place them in stacks, each with its own purpose or destination. I still do. In the initial years of our friendship I would periodically mix up the scans of Mike’s cards. Some cards were scanned twice, others not at all. Mike became aware of my inability to keep track, and my baseball card organizational deficiencies became an ongoing joke. In time I developed a system that I still use today. Scanned cards are stored in a plastic case with its intended recipient’s name written on it. I keep these cards on a dedicated baseball card trading shelf. I took a photo of it back in the day, as if to prove to myself that I finally had a workable system, and I still have it. Mike’s box was in the photo, front left:
I’m not clear on when we made the transition to total trust, but we got there. Before finding Mike, I traded with a few jerks who were only out for themselves. Then I was directed by other traders to some other Facebook groups that had more trustworthy members. That’s where I found Mike. At that time, when making a trade I would measure the value of what I was sending against what I was receiving, always keeping fairness in mind. I only traded cards that were in Mint/Near Mint condition. I was willing to trade cards of star players and still am. You have to send out quality in order to get quality in return. Somewhere along the line Mike and I stopped measuring. I would just send the Red Sox cards out, sometimes big stacks and sometimes small stacks. I mailed them to Mike without any concern as to what I was going to get or when, secure in the believe that Mike always came through. Every time a package from Mike would arrive, I got great cards in superb condition. We had developed our own baseball card trading zen. Then Mike started inserting candies in the packages! Way to go, Mike!
Shortly before he made his transition back to spirit, I mailed Mike a package full of Red Sox cards. As usual, Mike thanked me for the cards. However, this time he added that he was in hospice and was receiving palliative care. I read that, and knew what it meant. My heart sank. I responded by telling Mike that I was sorry to hear this news concerning his health and that I was sending him healing wishes. I sent additional messages a week or two later, but got no response. The silence was broken several weeks later by Mike’s girlfriend, Diane, who gave me the news that God had called Mike home. Diane added that he was either hanging out at the field of dreams or fishing, which sounds pretty good to me.
I’m going to miss you, Mike. Our friendship was very special. I’m keeping your next batch of cards in a sacred space and will never mail them out. I want to give them to you myself, on a seat at the field of dreams, where old friends go to reminisce and remember. Well, maybe not remember, because I’ll never forget you.
That’s a nice article. One of the things that I’ve discovered as I’ve gotten older is that you lose friends over the course of one’s life. It never gets any easier, but you have to deal with it. I do miss those friends who I’ve lost, but I still keep them in my heart.
In a world fractured by so many currents, it is truly heartwarming to hear about a good karma mail buddy. I know that you enjoy trading and meeting new fans this way, and I am so warmed by your story of a long distance connection. A warm send off to a spirit that matched you own. I am pulling for the Field of Dreams scenario, but either way I am confident that Mike is in a good place now.
I never ever Met Mike either. Didn’t know hardly
Anything about him. All I know it was an honest
Caring friend through messenger. I have the privilege
Now to be In touch with Diana whom I never met either.
R.I.P Mike 💗
Thank you, Michelle. Our dear, mutual friend sure had a way of touching others!
Michael/Grub.