eyelash growth

If you knew Dick Amspacher, you’re already aware that he died on Sunday around 11 a.m., and was scheduled to be buried Thursday around noon.

If you didn’t know Dick, that’s already more than you needed to know.

But for those of us who knew him and loved him, there’s more to be said.

It won’t all be said Thursday, however. and it won’t all be said in this space, either. But in the hours, days, weeks, months and years to come we’ll still be sharing stories and memories of one of the good guys and best slap-hitters who ever played baseball in York County.

But first, the important stuff. Dick, 54, dearly loved his mother, Ella; his wife, Debra; his daughter, Erin; his son, Greg; his daughter-in-law, Nila; three sisters, Dolores, Peggy and Linda; six brothers, Edwin, Thomas, John, James, Donald and Robert, who preceded him in death, and a host of friends. his father, Edwin, also preceded him in death.

More than anything, though, Dick loved God. right to his very core. When he called me around Christmas, almost seven months ago, to tell me of his cancer diagnosis, he made it clear he was putting his life and his treatment in God’s hands. That was that.

He was a religious man, and he didn’t mind sharing those feelings with anyone who would listen. We spoke of God frequently. We exchanged ideas about religion often. and not once did I get the feeling I was being preached to. I appreciated that.

It is safe to say, however, that there were other loves in Dick’s life, too. he loved the New York Yankees, for example. it was a flaw in his personality, but there was no way of talking him out of it. I tried. I couldn’t.

In Dick’s eyes, the Yankees could do no wrong, with one exception: When they didn’t re-sign Manager Joe Torre to a new contract three years ago, Dick was on the phone to me at work bright and early, complaining about the slap in the face his Yanks gave Torre.

Torre was one of Dick’s favorites, and he didn’t like it one bit that the Steinbrenner family didn’t reward Joe for 12 straight years in the playoffs, 10 American League East Division championships, six American League pennants and four World Series victories.

It is somewhat ironic, I think, that Dick and New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner died in the same week. it is evidence, I think, that God does indeed have a sense of humor. I can almost hear Dick chirping in Steinbrenner’s ear, the first chance he got, about George’s treatment of Torre. it might have been an interesting exchange, with neither of them backing down an inch.

What I liked best about Dick was his sense of humor. he was one of the world’s best bench-jockeys, particularly on days our teams played each other. it started in batting practice and lasted the entire game. He’d give me a shot, and I’d gladly return one of my own. it went back and forth like that until the final out.

Some people didn’t understand it. They thought we hated each other. We didn’t. Far from it. Dick gave as well as he got. he took as well as he gave, too. and either way, he had a smile on his face. my goodness, I liked that about him.

My earlier mention that Dick was one of the finest slap-hitters I’d ever played with or against is based on years of watching the little left-hander lace ground balls past the bag at third base and line drives down the left-field line.

Dick was so predictable in that respect that a Central League manager, Jim Rife from Stoverstown, once called time out to approach the home plate umpire. “Can I play my left fielder in foul territory?” Rife asked the man in blue.

“No. Can’t do that,” the ump said.

“Can I play him with one foot in fair territory and one in foul territory?” Rife asked.

“No. Can’t do that, either. both feet have to start in fair territory.”

“But he only hits the ball in foul territory,” Rife said.

Everyone close enough to hear the conversation had a good laugh about it, including Dick. and sure enough, a couple pitches later, he slapped the ball down the left-field line. it was foul, but not by much. But it couldn’t be caught, and Dick walked a few pitches later.

Dick and I must have played 50 games or so against each other in our Central League careers. and I don’t recall his ever hitting the ball to the right of the second baseman for a hit or an out. he must have done it, I just don’t remember it.

The only problem with being a slap-hitter is when he got older and his hand-eye coordination started to escape him, his swing was so late he couldn’t keep the ball on the field. or anywhere near the field. Baseballs cost $5 each. no team could afford to have him play for them.

I’m just kidding, of course. I said that to Dick once, over lunch, and he laughed.

I imagine him laughing now.

Dick was successful enough as a player to earn his way into the Central League Baseball Hall of Fame in 2005. he was a fine hitter for average, well above .300. he was a set-up guy, working his way on base, stealing bases and scoring when one of the big boppers behind him managed a hit. Plus, he was a decent defensive player, too, mostly at second or third base.

But his power stats indicated the obvious — he had no power. I think he hit two home runs in his Central League playing days — Stoverstown, Victory and Glen Rock, I believe — and one came on a field with no fence, when his line drive got between two outfielders and rolled forever.

The other home run? I’m not sure. But I do seem to recall something about him hitting a routine fly ball and all the outfielders falling down — they tripped over a painted line or something like that — while he rounded the bases.

Two months ago, I asked Dick if he’d ever been to the Baseball Hall of Fame. he said yes, but he’d like to go again. So we agreed that when he was feeling a little better we’d take a couple days and drive to New York for another visit.

He never got to feeling a little better.

But I’m going to go anyway. I’ll take Dick along in spirit. I might even wear a Yankees shirt (if it doesn’t make me itchy). He’d get a kick out of that, I think.

Dick was one of the good guys in my life, and I loved him. It’s the least I can do.

Sports columns by Larry A. Hicks, Dispatch colum nist, run Thursdays. E- mail: lhicks@yorkdis patch.com.

Slap hitter left behind a powerful legacy