A Half Eaten Piece of Pie

Today I have been remembering the man who gave me this,

The day we met my dad had taken me to lunch, and there sat Herm Franks alone in the corner. My dad recognized him instantly and began to tell me everything about him. How he was a catcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Cardinals. He was a well know scout, coach, and manager. Herman Franks coached big names like Willie Mays. He is also supposed to have been a key player in legendary sign stealing scandal in 1951. He was a coach for the New York Giants at the time. It has be said that he was in the center field clubhouse during the games, with a telescope giving him a clear view of the Dodgers pitching coach and the signs he was making to his players, and would signal his team to let them know what pitch was coming.  Of course throwing a game isn't what you want to remembered for, but without a doubt he was part of a baseball legend.
I was lost in my dads stories soaking them up when Herm Frank approached our table.
"Are you going to finish that?"
 No introduction, he just pointed at my half eaten piece of pie and asked if I was going to finish it. I replied something like No sir I think, I was kind of nervous. He sat down at our table, pulled my plate in front of him and started to finish my pie. My dad asked him questions and between bites Herm Franks told us about the first time he saw Willie Mays play ball.
We ran into Herman Franks a couple times after that. We would eat pie and talk baseball. I finally worked up the courage to ask him if he had actually stolen the pitching signs. I remember how he put down his fork, looked me in the eye, got very serious and said, "That's what they say" then he smiled and went back to his pie.
The last time I saw him he pulled out that baseball card. It was from his days as a catcher. He signed To Jess in blue ink, and then his pen died. We could only find a black pen, so his name is signed in black.
When we go back to that place where I sat with Herm Franks, I always take a moment to remember the kind man who lived for baseball, and finished my pie.