Man Of A Century

A few weeks back, an old black man wearing a thrift-shop suit and an aging fedora was sitting in his wheelchair at the front door of Harry Caray's, a Chicago restaurant, waiting for a ride. A group of sailors, white men in dress whites, were about to enter the restaurant.

"I'm Double Duty," the old man said as the sailors came upon him.

"Is that right?" one of the sailors replied.

"I'm the oldest living ballplayer."

"Well, God bless you."

"I'm gonna be 100 on July the seventh," said the old man, who didn't look a day over 85.

"Congratulations to you," the sailor said.

"You all can come to my party."

"Where is it?"

"I was a catcher," the old man said. "We barnstormed against all of 'em, Ty Cobb and them. Ty Cobb comes up to bat and says to me, 'No nigger's gonna catch me stealing.' He gets to first, tries to steal. I get him. As he's coming off the field, I yell at him, 'No nigger's gonna catch you stealing? Well this nigger just done did it.' "