He was born in Italy on February 5, 1913, coincidentally the same birth date as home run legend Henry Aaron.

For this article, we will call him Tony. Later in 1913, Tony, his parents, and four sisters arrived at Ellis Island. In 1924, his father died, leaving his mother to raise five children alone until her death in 1942.

Tony became a U.S. citizen in 1937. Although he had no formal education beyond grammar school, as you continue reading, you will realize how intelligent he was. If you did not have the pleasure of knowing him, you would have wished you did, and if you did know him, you appreciated him.

Shortly after the death of his mother, he married and in 1944 was blessed with the birth of his only child, his son, who was the apple of his eye.

At some point in the 1940s, in addition to his regular job as a grocery clerk, he landed a part-time position with the Boston Braves. He was befriended by utility infielder Sibby Sisti and became known to many players, coaches, scouts, and other members of the organization.

As a favor to a friend, Tony requested a meeting with scout Jeff Jones at his home to interview his friend's nephew to arrange a tryout with the Braves. The nephew was offered a tryout and assigned to the team's Waycross, Georgia, training facility, where the tryout would take place. To Tony's dismay, the nephew chose a girlfriend over the tryout and never reported.

After the 1952 season, the Braves relocated to Milwaukee, but Tony, due to his regular employment, could not follow. In 1953, when his son was playing for a minor Little League team, a manager requested Tony allow his son to join a major team. Tony declined, saying his son was not yet ready, a testament to his thoughtful understanding of baseball and of his son's development.

The following year, after moving his family to another city, his son tried out and was selected for a position on a major Little League team. Tony attended many of his games and at one of them noticed his son, who was having difficulty making contact, was waving his bat much like his son's favorite player, Henry Aaron. After the game, he asked his son what he was doing. His son replied, “Henry Aaron does that, so I thought I would do the same.” Tony answered, “Son, you are not Henry Aaron!”

After his son graduated from Little League, Tony was offered a managerial position with the White Sox, the Little League team his son had played for. He accepted the position and later, in addition to managing a team, became president of the local Little League organization. He spent several years in various positions in Little League until his untimely and unexpected death in 1969.

Who was Tony? To me, he was Dad, my biggest fan, my best friend, and my hero—Anthony Louis Ferrara, the smartest and most gentle man I have known.

As tears flowed while I wrote this article, I remembered the man—the father, the husband—who, while alive, was underappreciated by his son. He was an immigrant from Italy who taught me so much about life… and baseball.

As the years pass, I thank God every day for the blessing of bearing his name and wish every young boy could experience the love and caring I was fortunate to have.

God bless you, Dad. I love you and miss you. Your death was a loss to the world but a GAIN FOR HEAVEN.

(joe-4.9.26)