It Was a Season to Remember for the Wimmer Boys

Dick Wimmer took his sons Ceo and Geordie on a teen-age dream trip last spring. It was better than camping in the Tetons. Better even than Disneyland. It was so good, in fact, that Ceo’s top-ranked memories don’t even include the time he found himself bubbling in a hot tub with a flotilla of teen-age girls.

What could possibly be more memorable than a close encounter with the opposite sex? For Ceo, a 17-year-old junior at Calabasas High, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take batting instruction from Ted Williams, the Hall of Famer and the last major leaguer to hit .400. And the chance to test the hardwood seats in the dugouts at Wrigley Field or whiff the clubhouse at Yankee Stadium.

Ceo and his 13-year-old brother were taken on a cross-country baseball Odyssey by their father, a creative-writing instructor at Moorpark College who also coaches the JV baseball team and freshman basketball team at Calabasas High. Dick Wimmer, 50, is a divorced man who has raised the boys alone for the last nine years and spent countless hours coaching their youth-league teams. He is also a professional writer with a television credit, Rob Reiner’s 1982 movie of the week, “The Million-Dollar Infield.”

Ceo and Geordie, Wimmer says, are top athletes, excelling at soccer, basketball, football and baseball--Ceo was the only sophomore on the Calabasas varsity baseball team last season and has started at defensive back and wide receiver for the varsity football team this fall. But it is baseball, Wimmer said, “that is their major love and passion.”

Himself a lifelong baseball fan, Wimmer decided this year to write a book on major league players and their relationship with their fathers. He made arrangements to visit teams during spring training in March and then again during the summer. Not only did Ceo and Geordie get to go along and enjoy a behind-the-scenes look, but they also became an important part of the story as Wimmer chronicled their reactions and experiences.

After being tutored on pitching by the Dodgers’ Orel Hershiser, “Geordie confessed he was so nervous,” Wimmer wrote, “his knees were literally shaking.” Wimmer made another observation following Ceo’s 30-minute hitting lesson from Williams: “I asked Geordie if he wanted a turn, but he begged off, shy in the shadow of his brother.”

Wimmer wound up interviewing 35 past and present stars, from Williams and Stan Musial to Wade Boggs and Don Mattingly. While Dad was asking questions, Ceo and Geordie usually were off getting autographs or solving the mysteries of the ballpark, exploring areas that were normally off limits to fans.

The Wimmers had basically the same assessments of the players they met. With few exceptions, most of them, Ceo said, “were pretty cool.” Geordie thought “a lot were nice, but some were stuck up or cocky.” Wimmer talked to some players who felt they had nothing to say (Sandy Koufax), some players who had nothing worth saying (Steve Garvey), and some players who refused to say anything (Dave Winfield).

“The Yankees were like a street gang gone rich, all swaggering, macho types,” Wimmer said, “but Winfield was the worst, really arrogant.”

Wimmer also interviewed Boston’s Wade Boggs, the American League batting champion, asking him if his father was overly concerned about hitting. Boggs said sarcastically, “Not at all. He doesn’t worry about the hits, he worries about the outs.”

It was Williams who was Wimmer’s most intimidating subject. Wimmer grew up in Great Neck, N.Y., and used to go to Yankee Stadium to see the Red Sox play. Williams was a boyhood idol of his, but Williams also had a reputation for being difficult with the press. As Wimmer waited for him to show up for an interview at the Red Sox training facility in Winter Haven, Fla., he wasn’t sure if Williams had mellowed over the years.

“I had always heard he was gruff and acerbic,” Wimmer said. Williams was late for their meeting, “but once he got talking, he was absolutely marvelous,” Wimmer said.

Accompanying the 67-year-old Williams was his son, John Henry, 17. After Wimmer put away the tape recorder, John Henry and Ceo each took batting practice under the watchful eye of the “Splendid Splinter,” a master of the fine art of hitting. All it took was one swing for Williams to analyze Ceo’s technique.

“He’s hitting down, he’s hitting down,” Williams said behind the cage without the benefit of instant replay. “Drop your hands. More, more. Your hips are going one way and your head another. Hips in front of hands.” Ceo took 30 minutes of lessons from Williams, and afterward realized he’d heard it all before. “My dad taught me everything I know about hitting,” he said, “and all the things he’s told me were the exact same as what Ted Williams said.”

As much as the Wimmers found out about themselves during the trip, Dick learned even more about players and their fathers. Of the 35 major leaguers he interviewed, Wimmer found an almost even division among those whose fathers were either absent or never there, those who pushed and pushed their sons, or those who were failed athletes.

Reggie Jackson also affirmed for Wimmer that the manager becomes a surrogate father for a lot of players. “Reggie told me, ‘I need control,’ ” Wimmer said. “Earl Weaver, though, doesn’t believe it. He thinks it’s all a business.”

It was Jackson who provided Wimmer with the most poignant line for the book. He asked Jackson if he had any regrets about his baseball career, and the Angels star said, “That I don’t have a 10-year-old to watch me play.”

The trip was also a sentimental journey for Wimmer. By meeting the heroes of his boyhood, he said, “I was retracing the footsteps of my youth,” looking for ghosts in the same places his own father used to to take him.

“Baseball was one of the links my father and I had,” Wimmer said. “It was one of the few areas where we could relate.”

Baseball continues to be a link between the generations. The trip brought Wimmer and his sons closer, he said, and also “is a priceless legacy for them.”