Clete Boyer was one of three brothers to reach the majors

It is always a shock to pick up a newspaper or hear a TV or radio report on the death of another retired ballplayer who somehow got old on me when I wasn't looking. And so it went when I read on June 5 that Clete Boyer had died. What shocked me more than anything else was the fact that he was 70 years old.

The only one of the seven Boyer brothers I ever really knew was Webb Citian Cloyd, a first class guy. I had met Ken several times, but never really knew him. Clete, I saw play hundreds of times, but never really talked with.

Jim Novak still enjoys laughing about an incident that occurred at Kansas City Municipal Stadium many years ago. If you're not familiar with the layout of the old park, let me fill you in.

The visitor's clubhouse was located behind the third base grandstand and the players' bus parked along a narrow access road that led over to 21st Street. The players emerged from the clubhouse and walked across a walk into the bus or took off on their own and went wherever they wanted.

One night, after a game with the Yankees, Novak and I were waiting outside the clubhouse to get autographs, which was no easy chore with the Yankees since they were all so stuck up. I think it was a New York thing.

Well, that particular day, Vern and Mabel Boyer, Clete's parents, had driven up from their Alba home to see the game and spend some time with their son. I began talking with the Boyers, explaining that I was from Nevada and knew a local teacher, Velma Allison, who had taught Ken, and always referred to him by the formal Kenton. We immediately began to converse and Vern talked about how at least four of his boys had played in Nevada and it was Ken who hit the home run down the right field line over the old scoreboard to win $5 from Merlin Welty, who offered it to the first person to hit one over the board he had purchased. It was an opposite-field job.

We talked for a long time and eventually Clete emerged from the clubhouse and joined his parents. The first thing he did was brush Jim and I off, which was the wrong thing to do as Mabel chastised him. "These boys are from Nevada," she said rather angrily, and more or less forced him to sign for the boys from "back home."

Clete had become a Yankee and acted like the majority of them.

Later, he played for Atlanta, and was a fan favorite down there. I was in Atlanta Stadium the night in 1970 when the Kissing Bandit, stripper Morganna, raced on the field to kiss him at third base. At first, he pushed her away, and she was offended until it was noticed he was turning to spit the chaw of tobacco out of his mouth before allowing her to kiss him, which she did.

Clete Boyer was never the hitter Ken was. Clete's forte was his glove and agility at third base. Never much of a power hitter, Clete never hit more than 18 home runs in any of his first nine years in the majors. Then, saw the Launching Pad, as Atlanta Stadium was known, and immediately bashed 26.

Vern and Mabel were the happiest parents in the country back in October of 1964 when Ken and Clete faced off in the World Series. While the parents cheered for both their sons, a reporter asked Mabel if she was neutral. She told the reporter in no uncertain terms that she was a St. Louis Cardinals fan. Period!

Cloyd, older than Ken and Cletis, still lives in the Webb City area at Purcell. I used to see him at games down there maybe 20 years ago when his nephew played basketball for the Cardinals. Brother Lynn, also played baseball in Nevada, lives in Carl Junction and for my money, looks a whole lot like Ken.

Clete was born in Cossville, which I think no longer really exists in that I have never found it on a map. It was near Alba and Purcell.

Vern Boyer was a marble cutter who produced seven baseball-playing sons. That three of them made the major leagues is really something. What I don't like, is that they are disappearing.