Robin Roberts: a genuine article and humble legend

They said goodbye to the Hall of Fame right-hander Monday night. Part of him will always be with those who loved and admired him, part of him will be forever be young and ready to go, the eternal Whiz Kid.

Wally Meyer, his pastor at Christ Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, said, "Robin pitched 305 complete games. He had a complete life, too."

That was Robin Roberts, who passed away last week, whose 83 years were celebrated Monday. Several hundred mourners packed the church, then packed a banquet room at Temple Terrace Golf and Country Club, Roberts' home away from home. Both places brimmed with memories of a humble legend, the genuine article.

There were some tears in the church, particularly when some mourners thought back nearly five years, to the same church, and Robin up there eulogizing his wife Mary. Their love story, two Midwestern kids crazy about each other, lasted more than half a century.

But no one could stay sad for long on Monday. Jim Roberts and his three brothers all spoke. Jim mentioned that his Mom passed on Father's Day weekend, and Dad left on Mother's Day weekend. "They just wanted to be together," Jim said with a smile.

There was baseball, past and present, in attendance, including Phillies shortstop Jimmy Rollins, in Clearwater for rehab after an injury.

"I'm representing all the current Phillies," Rollins said. The rest of the team was in Colorado for a game. Rollins talked about how Roberts touched base with the Phillies when they trained in Clearwater or when Roberts was in Philadelphia, where he is still an icon.

"This was a special man," Rollins said. "He always talked with me. He wouldn't leave the clubhouse until we had our chat. Robin always wanted me to hit a triple for him. He'd say, 'Jimmy, I love to watch you run.' I think he asked me that about eight times, and I think about five times I hit a triple, one time two in one game. Robin just loved that."

Also at the service: Dick Allen, the legendary Phillies slugger, a mass of talent and ability like few in baseball history - and a man who deeply admired Robin Roberts. You have to go back 50 years, to 1960, when Philadelphia, one of the last teams to cross the color barrier, signed Allen. At his first training camp, Allen worried about how he would be treated by teammates.

He looked up and saw the star pitcher in front of him.

"C'mon, kid, let's get a picture together," Roberts told Allen.

"When Robin Roberts welcomes me, everybody welcomes me," Allen said Monday.

"He's the face of the Phillies - and he always will be."

At the country club, there were photos and a slide show of Robin and his life - Mary, the four boys, the grandkids, Robin on the cover of Time magazine, more Robin and family, and Robin as South Florida baseball coach.

And golf photos. Robin Roberts loved that game, too, usually playing thee times a week. He could shoot his age into his late 70s, and when he did, he'd give the scorecard to one of his grandchildren. Dick Edie, a friend from Philadelphia, remembered playing with Robin, and Robin was in the woods - no chance. But Robin went in, even as they told him to forget it.

"I am an athlete and I'm hitting that ball," Robin yelled.

"I heard rustling and all of a sudden the ball comes flying out and lands on the green," Edie said.

At the church, Robin Roberts Jr. remembered the spring training when his dad took him fishing and his dad wasn't happy he'd only caught a catfish, not something better, so he kicked the catfish.

"The dorsal fin went through his boot and cut his foot," Robin Jr. said. "He had to miss a week of training. That's when I learned that when you miss a week of spring training for kicking a catfish it's called a muscle pull."

Everyone laughed. There was joy like that in talking about Robin, his sons talking about watching ballgames with him, Phillies games, Rays games, any games, or the Robin who always sat in the back of the church, not wanting to be the center of attention, but who sang "Onward Christian Soldiers" with gusto.

Everyone sang it again Monday. They remembered a life complete, and Robin Evan Roberts, a completely decent man.