Montini: Me, Joe Garagiola Sr. and the lightning bolt

Not long ago I honored the request of a much admired friend, and in doing so risked sudden death and eternal damnation.

I survived, but it could have gone the other way, and no one left to do the accounting.

As it is I am able to report to Joe Garagiola Sr., who will be laid to rest later this month in his hometown of St. Louis, that the lightning bolt we spoke about did…not…strike.

It was Garagiola, the baseball Hall of Famer, former major league catcher, former broadcaster and world class humanitarian,  who sent me on this dangerous mission.

The genesis was a conversation we had some time back about our shared Italian-American, Roman Catholic backgrounds. We were raised a generation or so apart but each of us grew up in the same type of working class, heavily ethnic neighborhood, where life centered around faith, family, nationality and, to a degree, baseball.

Garagiola remained a devout Catholic all his life and he discerned from our conversation that I was no longer particularly religious.

“So you don’t get to church much anymore, do you?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“What would it take to get you back?” he asked.

“A gun?” I said. “And even then I’m not sure.”

He laughed.

“I tell you what,” he said. “When I die you better go light a candle for me.”

And so, not long ago, and with considerable trepidation, I walked to the Catholic church closest to the downtown offices of The Arizona Republic -- the lovely St. Mary’s Basilica.

In the northwest corner of the church’s cavernous nave is an alcove with rows and rows of votive candles.

Only they don’t light.

Not in the traditional sense, anyway.

There is a mail slot on the display into which a churchgoer can deposit a donation. In order to “light” a candle, however, one need only press the red button in front of each one. In place of a wick and flame there is a tiny electric bulb that flickers on.

During our earlier conversation I told Garagiola I was a bit concerned about being struck by a lightning bolt upon entering the vestibule. Thankfully (though perhaps not to some readers) that did not happen.

I pushed a button. A candle’s light went on.

I figure Joe knows this.

He’d probably say, however, that since no matches or flames were involved I did not technically “light” a candle, and that I should go to another church where the wax variety is used.

The wily old catcher will have to argue that call with the ultimate Umpire.

I await the decision.