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Breakfasts with Al: An appreciation
Two of the enduring benefits of the Marriott Rewards program involve making late September hotel reservations for early October baseball and the complimentary breakfasts provided each weekday morning in the hotels' concierge lounges. One of the benefits of the concierge lounge breakfasts were the occasional meals and stories shared with Al LaMacchia.
Served with scrambled eggs, fresh raspberries and orange juice thick with pulp were observations, anecdotes, news updates and occasional secrets served by Mr. LaMacchia. Before you left a tip, you might get one from Al. But that wasn't the reason a sleepy beat writer would roll out of his king-size sack, trip over his laptop chord and make it to the door at 8:15 a.m., six hours after turning off the lights.
LaMacchia wasn't a source so much as he was a saint. To use terminology from his formative years, he was a swell guy and, by all accounts and evidence, an effective scout.
And now he has joined The Great Majority, at age 89. The game is diminished, and I am saddened by his passing. We hadn't seen each other for a while. But we'd spoken within the last year or so. Still so pleasant and well-informed, Al made it quite easy to respect your elders.
The age difference between us was 26 years and change. He was St. Louis, I am the Bronx; he settled in San Antonio, I landed in New Jersey. So what could we have in common except for a few Sinatra songs, memories of Gleason, affection for '57 Chevys and some knowledge of the Alamo. And baseball. So baseball it was on most of those two or three dozen chance meetings we enjoyed during my time on the road. Scouts live on the road. Writers get to cover home games, too. On the road is where our paths would intersect.
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