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“Living in the Shadow of Mickey Mantle” Photo Gallery
Click on any image below to see photos in full size and to start Photo Gallery:
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- Clarence Fortin with Roger Maris
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- Clarence Fortin with Joe DiMaggio
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- Mickey Mantle Fortin with his mother Irene and Mickey Mantle
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- Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris
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- Whitey Ford with Mickey Mantle
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- Whitey, Mickey, Billy
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- Whitey with teammates Mickey Mantle and Bobby Richardson
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- If Mickey was healthy, would it have made a difference?
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- Casey with Mickey Mantle
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- Clubhouse celebration with Casey Stengel,Phil Rizzuto, Billy Martin, Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra
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- Mickey Mantle, 1952
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- Mickey Mantle, Casey Stengel, Yogi Berra and Hank Bauer at Yankee Stadium after being named to the All-Star team in 1954
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- Mickey Mantle saves the Perfect Game
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- Roger Maris, Mickey Mantle, Clete Boyer, 1960 World Series
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- Eddie Mathews and Mickey Mantle
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- Mickey Mantle
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- Tom Tresh with Yankee teammates: Joe Pepitone, Tom Tresh, Bill Robinson, Mickey Mantle, Ralph Houk.
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- Shaking hands with Mickey Mantle, 1965
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- Yankee stars: Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford, Joe DiMaggio, Casey Stengel
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- Infant Mickey Mantle sits on the lap of father Mutt Mantle
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- Mickey Mantle with wife Merle and sons.
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- Mickey Mantle at the plate during the 1962 World Series
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- Stan Musial, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio with kids
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- Yogi with teammate Mickey Mantle
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- Mickey Mantle and Billy Martin, two participants in the Copacabana Incident
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- Frank Baker poses with Mickey Mantle in the 1950s
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- A young Mickey Mantle in the YAnkees’ clubhouse.
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- The powerful swing of Mickey Mantle
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- Roger Maris, Mickey Mantle, Joe Pepitone
Living in the Shadow of Mickey Mantle!
We often forget what an emotional investment we’ve made to the game of baseball. It usually starts early on in our youth and continues throughout our lives. This was even truer during the glory days of baseball—the ‘30s, ‘40s, and ‘50s—when baseball was essentially the only real game in town.
One such person who made a deep emotional commitment to the game was a Yankee fan named Clarence Fortin. So committed was Clarence, a native of Waterbury, Connecticut, that when a son was born to him and his wife Irene on June 10, 1953, he named him “Mickey” after his hero, Mickey Mantle. You may recall that Mickey Mantle himself had been named after his father’s hero, Mickey Cochrane.
But Clarence carried it one step further. He named his son Mickey Mantle Fortin. Mickey Mantle Fortin was born just three months after another Mickey Mantle: Mickey’s own son, Mickey Mantle, Junior. Thus began Mickey Fortin’s life-long connection to his father’s hero, Mickey Mantle.
As it happens, Mickey Mantle Fortin is a reader of our Baseball History Comes Alive web site. He contacted me recently and was anxious to share with me some interesting stories about his family’s connection to some of great Yankees of the past. As Mickey told me:
“There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that my father Clarence had already chartered this newborn’s course. He was going to be a baseball star, just like his idol, #7. But talk about placing an unrealistic goal on your kid! This had to be it. Simply put, this would seem to be an insurmountable and unattainable goal for anybody.”
But it wasn’t, not this time, as you’ll soon see.
One story I found very interesting was the origin of his father’s friendship with Yankee stars. For many years, Clarence Fortin owned a restaurant in Naugatuck, Connecticut. One long-time patron of the restaurant was a pitcher named Frank “Spec” Shea, an eight-year major leaguer who played for the Yankees from 1947-1951. Over time Clarence and Spec became good friends. Through his relationship with Shea, Clarence befriended many Yankees, including Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford, Roger Maris, and Mickey Mantle. This was the start of Clarence’s 23-year friendship ship with Mantle. Over the many years of their friendship, they became golfing and drinking buddies. It eventually saw them pass away on the same day, August 13, and from the same disease, liver cancer.
It was also the beginning of an especially close relationship with Joe DiMaggio, who Clarence always described as one of the finest gentleman he ever met. At one point, Joe autographed a photo of himself and inscribed it, “To my good friend, Clarence, Always wishing you the best. (signed) Joe DiMaggio.”
Before he passed away, Clarence gave a cherished family heirloom to his son Mickey: a hand-written letter from Joe DiMaggio to Clarence from his home address in SanFrancisco. As things often happen in life, Mickey fell on hard times and eventually sold the letter for a mere $250.
Almost immediately, Mickey regretted the decision; and he lived with remorse for the next 10 years. Finally, on a whim, one day he did a Google search for “Clarence Fortin.” To his amazement, he discovered that the letter was being auctioned off on eBay at that very time. Thinking he was the recipient of divine guidance to have stumbled on the letter quite by chance, Mickey F. immediately bought the photo…for $2500! For Mickey, the steep price was a bargain, and he cried tears of joy when the letter was finally returned to its rightful home.
As you can imagine, going through life carrying the name “Mickey Mantle Fortin” meant carrying an extra burden. Who could possibly live up to such lofty, unattainable expectations? It came to a head when Mickey Fortin was in high school. He was good enough to make the baseball team, and of course, wore #7 and played centerfield. But legendary coach, Ray Legenza, soon to be named the 1971 High School Coach of the Nation, knew a thing or two about baseball. When asked by Clarence Fortin if his son Mickey had a future in baseball, Ray leveled with him and gave his honest opinion, saying Mickey didn’t “have what it takes” to be a baseball star.
Could he have been more wrong? Did he realize who he was talking about? Knowing he had much to prove and wanting to make his name-sake proud, Mickey used the coach’s remarks as a positive incentive and became the batting champion and leading slugger on a team that won 64 straight games. For his contributions to the championship team, he was even selected to the All-New England All-Star team:
“We made it to the Baseball Hall of Fame even before the Yankee’s Mickey Mantle! A 64-0 win streak, baseball’s longest at the time, led to pictures and autographs and being enshrined with our own display in the hallowed ground of Cooperstown. Eventually, I was asked to be part of the cast in HBO’s documentary, Mantle, which you can find on YouTube. Talk about fate! How does a young teen-ager given the task of playing baseball while carrying the undeniable expectation that goes along with being named Mickey Mantle, wear 7 on your back, be a star center field and be your teams leading slugger? Seems more like “Mission Impossible” to me. All that happened and is documented.”
One of Mickey Fortin’s stories I found interesting occurred in 1977, shortly after the Yankee’s had won the World Series. Clarence Fortin had been named Waterbury’s “Man of the Year,” and a banquet was held in his honor. Among the invited guests were Roy White and the 1977 American League Cy Young award winner, Sparky Lyle, both friends of Clarence from his restaurant days. The banquet was a huge success, and following the dinner, Clarence invited both White and Lyle to stay overnight at his house. Mickey Fortin remembered a long night of great baseball chatter combined with lots of drinking. In the morning, Sparky Lyle had a gift for Mickey: a fungo bat that had once belonged to Bobby Doerr. Another heirloom was added to the Fortin collection!
Many thanks to Mickey Mantle Fortin for sharing his reminisces about his father and the family’s great connection to the Yankees. He had many more stories, but due to constraints of space, I had to cut it here. If you ask him, I’m sure he’ll be glad to tell you the great story about the time he met George Steinbrenner and Howard Cosell on a Yankee Stadium elevator!
As I mentioned at the beginning, I think we all have a deep emotional connection to this game we love, and it’s always fun to share our stories with other baseball fans.
Gary Livacari
Photo Credits: All from Google search
Information: Excerpts edited from phone conversation with Mickey Mantle Fortin
Thanks, Gary, for a fascinating essay, with the help of Mickey Mantle Fortin. A memorable name and fantastic stories. Can’t get over selling the Joe D. autographed photo for $250 and then buying it back for $2500!
Would love to know the impression MMF had of George S. and Howard Cosell in the elevator. And what he thought of Cosell’s hair!
Best,
Bill
Thanks Bill, the Steinbrenner story is really interesting. Maybe I can get him to post some of the details.
Hello baseball fans, and much love to the NY Yankees. Once again a big thank you Gary. When I read these words you wrote, I am humbled to the point of tears, really. I’m thinking just like everyone else, this kid will never climb this colossal mountain. No one can, all you had to do was ask the Nation’s #1 high school coach in 1971. He had already pegged me as a loser, in spite of my famous title. Living up to this high watermark became an obsession for me.
The anger and emotion generated by this coach’s slanderous remark and unfounded opinion to my Dad was all that I could stand. No one, will ever make a fool of him was the engine that drove my attitude, thus the competitive spirit was unleashed, I knew one thing, and only one thing, I was going to make this high school Goliath EAT his discouraging words. That’s when I felt like I was David and my coach became the giant Goliath. Our coach never encouraged our team to taunt or make fun of our opponents, “Let a sleeping dog lye,” that was his philosophy. Strange that he did not follow his own advice, but rather kicked this sleeping dog into action. He was so big, that this David knew he could and would slay him. The rest is history!
Being selected to the All New England All-Star team, winning our team’s batting title @ (.377) and making our conference All-Star team was the icing on the cake.
I know for certain, my fathers head and chest stood tall and proud on this day. HIS son had proved to one and all that LOVE can and will conquer ALL.
It had been two months since we buried my Dad, grief and sorrow was the flavor of the day, every day. My hero was gone and I missed him more than words could say. To escape the clutches of my sadness there was only one place that I knew of that could lift my spirits, YANKEE STADIUM!
So like the loyal I am, I planned on taking my son to his first Yankee game. What a thrill for him and myself. Thinking back, I was about the same age as my son when I was taken to my 1st game at the stadium. So on a whim, I decided, today was the day. And to top it off, my father’s friend, Sal Reccia had a son who was stricken with polio. Patrick was his name, I think he was about 10. He wore all the gear that helps him walk, thick metal braces and 2 long metal poles we called crutches. To witness the efforts this lad put forth was enough to make this grown man cry. I swear.
When I say all of this was unplanned, believe it. Without any tickets I loaded up the boys and headed to the “big apple” purely on faith. My plan, be early and scalp 3 tickets. Little did I know what lie ahead for us.
By then we had made good time traveling, we were a mere 15 minutes away from the game. I remember following a white van, when suddenly he swerved to the left lane I wondered why? Two seconds later I found the answer to my question. Lying in our lane was a 12 foot piece of rebar. These long iron bars add strength to any construction. As fate would have it, I ran over it. The next thing I knew, sparks were flying everywhere, the rebar had lodged itself somewhere under my vehicle. Thankfully I was allowed to bring the car to the breakdown lane where the rebar and I had our battle on the NY thruway. Twenty minutes later this stupid thing wasn’t letting go. In desperation I said a prayer to my dad, pulled as hard as I could and was finally rewarded with a loud clank of metal hitting cement. We were finally free and once again headed towards the stadium. When we made it to the exit ramp the sad reality hit me. The Yankee marquee announced that tonight’s game was SOLD OUT! I couldn’t believe my eyes. After all this, I wasn’t going back home without the boys at least catching a glimpse of the “House Ruth Built”.
As fate would have it, I found a parking spot close to the stadium, a small miracle for sure. If nothing else these boys would stand at the gates of greatness. Our attempt to behold sacred ground had failed. All 3 of us stood staring, the boys I know they were astonished at the sight of it. Just as we were leaving I heard an unfamiliar voice ask, “Do you boys need tickets”? I have 3 that are in the outfield bleachers, not the greatest seats but they will get you in. An angel dressed in blue had arrived, he was a NYC policeman holding 3 tickets. All the gates were closed and no one else was there, to say the least, I stood dumbfounded. Tears rolled down my cheeks. How was this possible I wondered? Destiny was the only conclusion I came to.
We made it in only to discover how hard it was for our guest to walk that far. I stopped and changed our direction. “Come on boy’s follow me”, we’re heading up to the loge level. A place that was quite familiar, Dad had been a season ticket holder for a decade, I was well acquainted with our usher Charlie Metzger. When he saw me, he held up one finger which indicated to give him a minute. The next moment he was waving us down to the front row. Front row I thought to myself, how can this be? The hands of God are surely working overtime for us.
When the 8th inning came I told the boys, “Let’s go”, hoping we would miss the big crush when the game ended. The last thing we needed were fans pushing and stampeding to the exits. If nothing else little polio Patrick tried to prove he wasn’t handicapped. In my estimation his feat was nothing short of a Herculean effort. It took some time, but the kid made it to the mainstream out of the stadium. His young brow was covered with sweat from all his efforts. As we continued walking to the exit, I was startled to say the least when two elevator doors opened before us. Who knew this private elevator even existed? Doors opened wide as ever, my eyes could not help but peer inside. Before us stood Mr. George Steinbrenner the owner and CEO of the Yankees, standing next to him was sports announcer Howard Cosell. This cannot be really happening I thought. “ Do you boys need a ride down”, asked Mr. Steinbrenner. I stood there thinking what’s the chances of not having a ticket, let alone 3 of them! Now we are invited into Mr. Steinbrenner’s private elevator. George looked at my son decked out in his Yankee fan outfit, Yankee hat and jacket and said, “What a beautiful boy you have”. He proceeded to pick my son up and kissed his cheek causing me to question can this be really be happening? I will just admit that this was truly divine intervention. If it weren’t for that piece of metal caught under my car this never would have happened. I am totally convinced, a higher power was at work. When you think of the circumstances and the perfect timing, it leaves me speechless. How many Yankee fans can say they rode in the BOSSES elevator? Few and none. I really believe only a supreme power can put this all together, without a problem.
The hand of our almighty heavenly FATHER, that’s who. Doubt what you may, if I ever had doubts they were drowned by this spectacular event. AMEN.
Mickey Mantle Fortin #7
PS look on Amazon for another unbelievable tale,
Foul Balls From Heaven, you don’t want to miss it. This led to my cameo appearance in HBO’S documentary Mantle playing on YouTube.
Thanks Mickey…always glad to hear from you! Those are great stories, and yes, divine intervention in play as well!
As you know, our parents were wonderful friends for many years starting with us dining at Mayos with your mom as our waitress. I definitely had no idea what was going on in your life or your sisters. I give you a lot of credit for staying strong during parental abuse. It was certainly shocking to read about. Best wishes to you and your family.
Hello Baseball Fans, welcome to “the best” baseball website on the internet. Gary Livacari, you have done an incredible service for baseball lovers, and a great job putting everything together. You are to be commended and a BIG thank you from this diehard fan, especially for creating a platform that allows for fascinating tales to be shared.
Our conversation was so deep and fast, it amazes me how much info you remembered and put to paper. But we must set the record straight for accurately retelling of these memories, my birth was June 10, 1953.
August 13th, not the 23, is the date MM & Clarence both died from liver cancer. and it was a hand written letter, by Joe DiMaggio addressed to my Dad, that had Joe’s home address in San Francisco, CA and not the photograph seen above.
Regarding my ride down in the Boss’s personal elevator at Yankee Stadium with my son, Patrick Recchia, and Howard Cosell was totally surreal. When George Steinbrenner looked at my 3 year old dressed to the nines in Yankee jacket and hat, picked him up planted a kiss on my son’s right cheek while commenting “What a beautiful little boy”. As for Mr. Howard Cosell, he just stood there watching, while chomping down on his favorite cigar, still wearing his infamously worn hair piece. A day to remember for sure!
Thanks Mickey, I’ll make those corrections.
Mickey, can you give any details on what the letter from Joe D. to your father was about? Also, someone on Facebook asked how far did you get in your baseball career? Anything after highschool?
I had a boyhood friend who was such a Yankee and Mantle fan that he memorized all of Mantle’s stats from baseball cards. He could recite averages, home runs, RBI’s, and number of hits by year. We never did stump him. We tried since, as Chicagoans, we did not like the Yankees at all. Funny thing is that he was an average student in school, at best!
OK, Jay…Who was it?? I can’t even come up with a guess (Jay and I are friends from childhood).
Do you remember Gus Locallo? Went to grade school but not high school with us. Lived near Billy Caldwell GC.
Put this right on the blog since I don’t think it was a privacy invasion!
Sure Jay, I remember Gus real well. Thanks!
Gary thanks for your request regarding the letter Joe DiMaggio wrote to my Dad. I will gladly recall those unbelievable circumstances and write them down so they can be shared.
Gary you or somebody asked about the extent of my baseball career. After H.S. I went to Norwich University in Northfield VT my freshman year. FYI that was an all male military college back then, plus I switched positions and now played 2nd base and became the teams leadoff hitter.
After college I played semi-pro baseball in CT and am proud to have played with so many talented ball players. The 3 teams I played on, (Waterbury Timers, Naugy Grads, and Shakers Cougars) won 5 CT Stan-Musial League championships. I finished my baseball career playing fast pitch soft ball.
Thanks Mickey, that’s great info. The post has gotten over 3K likes on Facebook. The readers loved the story, as I thought they would.
Gary I’m happy to give you something positive, 3K likes means you wrote a fascinating piece about facts that truly are stranger than fiction, I still have to pinch myself sometimes to assure I’m not dreaming this stuff up.
When you love your father as much as I did, you’ll find any way possible to make him proud of you. Climb mountains, cross rivers, crawl on glass if that’s what it takes to make this dream come true.
I recall being tested beyond anything imagined, like the afternoon I ran 17.5 laps around our enormous facility on a severely sprained ankle that looked like somebody poured Welch’s grape juice on it. Running at half speed especially in practice was not allowed nor accepted. Basically it was a test of wit’s and wills. For 2 hours I trotted and probably would have ran till midnight if need be. No one, and nothing could keep me from fulfilling my destiny. Not even the #1 HS Coach of the Nation could deter me from my heavenly appointed duties. I must give credit where it belongs, to my higher power, my Lord, with Him all things are possible.
Dear Gary, After a conversation just yesterday with a friend where I mentioned my marriage to Mickey Mantle Fortin and then watching A TV program this morning that had Mickey Mantles 1952 Rookie Card as a part of the story I was compelled to Google my Ex-husbands name. We hadn’t spoken in quite a few years, however I do keep him in prayer from time to time. I found this article and thought I would tell you what an amazing determined, often at the cost of abuse, Mick was as a child. I believe that Clarence needed to live his own lost childhood as a ball player through his son Mick. He was named Mickey Mantle before he was even born and had no choice in his own destiny. Mick has many other amazing talents and gifts including photography and writing. As a child he was interested in music and learning the piano. He was admonished by his father for even thinking that would be in Micks future. Coaches told Micks father that he didn’t have the skills for a ball player and too bad you named him after Mickey Mantle. That just made Clarence more fierce in his expectations of his son. I was and still am proud of Mick and saddened by all the abuse and ridicule and anxiety he endured as a child trying to prove himself to his father. He suffered at the hands of his coach, too, who was determined to prove himself right. That Mick was no ball player. But Micks own pride and hard work paid off. He has every right to be proud of himself and have that name of Mickey Mantle Fortin. He certainly earned it at a cost of a childhood that was not his own. He was a winner and lived up to the name and his fathers dream. Micks childhood was fraught with high expectations and pressure no child should endure. However, once an adult and no longer feeling the pressure of living up to his fathers dream he used all of that drive that came with the expectations from being named after Mickey Mantle to his advantage. Instead of focusing on the hurt and abuse he used the experience to become an amazing adult. His photography, writing and gift for adventure is to be admired. I just wanted you to know that being named after Mickey Mantle and having to live up to his fathers lost dream for himself was no easy feat. His father and the coach would face criminal charges today for the way Mick was treated at times. Mick is to be admired for accomplishing what he did as a child. He will always be admired by me. I was always proud to have been his wife.
Thanks Ann for the heartfelt comment.
I just read my ex-wife’s tale of my childhood and dealing with two wild and crazy parents. May my truth be heard.
Every word Ann spoke, has merit. Some how I became the wedge between my parents and paid dearly for something that was beyond my control. I believe this emotion called jealousy was one of the driving forces behind my mother’s struggle with their marriage. Clarence took me everywhere, to places that she longed to be. Her inner rage and anger couldn’t be directed to my father, who didn’t tolerate such behavior, so the next best choice was to take out her frustrations on me. This led her to beating me up beyond corporal punishment. Spankings graduated to much more violent punishment. Her beatings were so severe that I would pee my pants while pleading for her mercy which never came.Trying to be everything for someone else’s fantasy, my father’s, was what I faced. At 2 1/2 years old I had to be taken to Waterbury Hospital because my right arm was pulled from its socket due to the violence occurring behind closed doors. The physical abuse led to mental and emotional abuse as well. I remember crying and trying to understand the reasoning behind this traumatic behavior. As time passed my torturous life progressed to the point that I wanted to run away from my parents.
There were many times I cried alone in center field, wondering why and how could this be happening to me. I was innocent, yet suffering from circumstances I didn’t understand. I felt anger towards both of my parents. My dad for giving me this Mickey Mantle cross to bear, and my mother for her viscous behavior directed solely on me.
When I was 10 I recall my mother flipping out of control while telling me how much she hated me, and wishing that I was never born. During one of her hateful episodes she was screaming and cursing that I was evil and worse than Adolph Hitler and Mussolini rolled into one. To say these words were devastating to my heart and my soul. Just imagine being abused and tortured for a decade. I still bare the scars to the tragic childhood I endured. That old expression what doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger is the reason I succeeded in my quest for stardom. When I was 12 I found myself being involved in so many fistfights that my father enrolled me I a martial arts program. This is where my life changed. I took to this art of self defense like a fish to water. Ironically the first person I used my new found skills on was my mother Irene.
She began one of her beatings on me, all I can say is I almost broke her arm when I used an arm block to avoid her first blow. That was the day she knew her little boy had become a man and would not tolerate her physical abuse. I somehow believe that she turned me into a warrior which in turn helped me conquer the bullies, my baseball coach, practically anyone who stood in the way of me completing my given task, play like Mickey Mantle, and I did in my own way. A star was born from the ashes of disaster.
One last disappointment to my story is that I wrote a heartfelt letter to the new Yankee leader Brian Cashman informing him about my life long struggles to become the champion I am. The boy who stood in the shadows of greatness #7, beat the great Mickey Mantle to Cooperstown and the Hall of Fame. Cashman has never answered my letter in which I declared to be one of the Yankee’s greatest fans. To this day I haven’t even heard a reply, 0, nada, nothing. Two seasons ago the Yanks acknowledged some woman as one of the Yankees greatest fan. That’s when I said to myself, as great a fan as she was, she couldn’t shine my shoes when it comes down to evaluating the love for the Yankees. Me as #7 has lived the dream.
Wow! A lot of emotion in those stories…thanks for having the courage to share! God Bless!
Wow!!!
This is all that I ever dreamt of hearing after sharing my very personal story.
I have lived a life where dreams come true, just like those enchanting fairytales Walt Disney created.
Long ago I was taken to a movie theater, the Lowes Poli in Waterbury CT. There I watched a make believe character named Jimminy Cricket sing a song that impacted my world.
This song had lyrics this child believed to be true. That if you dreamed a dream, all of your wishes would come true. I remember this song because it kinda held a faint light in the darkness that maybe somehow, or someway MY dreams could come true too. You just had to truly believe in those words.
Honestly Gary we both undoubtedly know that life can be stranger than fiction. No one from here to Hollywood could make up a story such as I have lived.
A perfect Shakespearean play about life, taking in all the goodness it offers as well as mixing in the bad stuff we have suffered through. The Ying and the Yang as they say, a perfect balance.
I stand proud as ever knowing the extent of my accomplishments in this lifetime.
As I am writing this message I am in Pisa Italy in celebration of my 70th birthday. I am blessed to have walked an ancient pilgrimage that started in the French Pyrenees mountain town of St. John, to the west coast of Spain, all 500 miles of the Camino de Santiago aka The Trail of St. James. I accomplished this incredible spiritual adventure in just 35 days all the while celebrating my 65th birthday.
Last year again I was blessed when I walked the Portuguese Camino, starting in Lisbon and ending at the St. James Cathedral in Santiago Spain.
Together they equal close to 1000 miles that I have trekked through Europe, all of this at 65 plus years of age and doing it solo! I never imagined myself doing such an adventures but I have. I guess this being the same internal flame that led or better yet drove me to my glory days while playing baseball. Winner’s NEVER Quit, and Quitters NEVER win, a well learned life lesson.
People are so curious, they commonly ask me what was it like to walk so far and long on my adventures. I tell them I am hot wired, much differently than anyone else I know.
Keep in mind, I am a senior citizen traveling to strange lands with a strange language and hardly any idea of where to go on these 1000+ year old walkways.
In 2018 I was walking in Spain and heard rumors about some fellow who was totally blind and walking the Camino de Santiago. I could hardly believe it, I have 2 eyes and faced great difficulties in meeting this challenge. To think a blind person was capable of such a fantastic journey just blew me away until I learned this was no ordinary man accomplishing this feat. No, this was Major Ivan Castro, US Special Forces Sniper who was blinded when a mortar round that struck the rooftop he and his men were operating from in Afghanistan. Ivan was flown to a hospital by helicopter more dead than alive, all of his other comrades on that roof did not survive.
Through the grace of God I met Ivan in a restaurant in Spain. Here was a bonafide American hero. When I learned he had co-written a book titled FIGHTING BLIND with Jim De Felice author of American Sniper I knew I was in the presence of greatness. Ivan and Prince Harry along with the wounded warriors project had skied 250 miles to reach Antarctic a few years earlier.
This is why I find my life surreal. Truth being, life can be stranger than fiction. #7