One of the great things about sports is the memories they can create.

Some are really good, some not so good, but they tend to be memories that last a lifetime.

I have one of those cherished, if not comical, memories from way back in my days as a young baseball fan in Billings.

It was probably in the early to mid 60s when a once-in-a-lifetime event, at least in terms Billings baseball history, that my older brother and I scored tickets for was an exhibition game in Billings against the St. Louis Cardinals.

Yeah, the Cardinals, as in Stan the Man Musual, were in town to play their AA farm team, the Billings Mustangs.

The game was held at legendary Cobb Field, the ballpark made of wood that was not, contrary to logic, named after Ty Cobb. Lots of us Billings dudes liked to think that was the case, but it was not. In fact, when I learned the truth, that Cobb Field was named after Bob Cobb, a co-owner of the Hollywood Stars minor league baseball team who founded the Mustangs in 1948, I was bummed.

Cobb Field was home to many historic Montana baseball moments, its 4,300 wooden bleachers seats and folding chair “box seats” often filled with Billings fans cheering on the local American Legion team, winners of 20-plus state championships in a row at one point. Dave McNally, who went on to be a 20-game winner for the Baltimore Orioles, pitched for the Legion Royals.

But perhaps the crowning moment for the old ballpark and its’ wooden scoreboard with tin plate numbers that sat atop a tall wooden fence encircling the playing area, was the visit by the Cardinals.

It was a year when, as my fading memory recalls, Bob Gibson was either a rookie pitcher or close to it. Stan the Man was still in his prime, and my brother Bill and I had tickets midway up the bleachers along the third base line.

They had installed temporary bleachers on both sides of the permanent ones, extra seating down the foul lines to accommodate the crowd of more than 7,000 fans who showed up that night.

It was quite a show. Everything from a ragtime band on the roof of the Cardinals dugout to fans dressed in a sea of red Cardinals shirts. Felix DeLeon, the Mustangs home run hitting start, was going to get a chance to face a Bob Gibson fastball.

In the opening inning of the game, Musual came to the plate. He swung at the first pitch he faced and we watched in awe as it arced out of sight and settled into one of the tall cottonwood trees that kept watch over the ballpark from beyond the 400-foot center field fence.

Musual trotted around the bases, giving the adoring fans a tip of his baseball cap and the place went nuts.

Stan the Man would hit two more towering home runs during the course of the game, the final score of which I cannot remember but I’m pretty sure the Mustangs took it on the chin.

That spectacle was not the top memory I got that night.

Somewhere in the middle innings, a Cardinal player fouled a baseball into the stands, right at the seat where I was sitting. A scramble for that prized souvenir ensued and I somehow came up with the ball!

I, Charles K. Bandel, was in possession of a baseball that had been in the hands of major league players.

Then, brother Bill came up with a great idea. He talked me into taking the ball down to the roof of the dugout and seeing if someone would pass it to the players sitting on the Cardinals’ bench.

Sure enough, the ball was passed around and disappeared into the Cardinals’ dugout. It re-emerged a short time later, handed to me by a player whose name I cannot recall. I was starstruck folks.

I hurried back up the stands to my seat and proudly displayed the autograph covered ball to any and all who wanted to see it. No one, and I mean no one, was allowed to touch the ball and I myself was holding it by the seams.

I bought a plastic display case shaped like a ball so I could display and protect the valuable signatures I had acquired.

Then, something strange happened. Bill noticed it first. Who, he asked, is (not real name but I can’t remember what that was) is Harry Smith? And, Bill continued, I’ve never heard of anyone on the Cardinals named Jim Hankle.

Then it dawned on me...in the process of getting the ball handed down into the dugout, several members of the ragtime band figured they were being asked to sign my priceless trophy.

Oh, it did have Stan Musual and Bob Gibson autographs, but it also had about six members of a not-very-good oompah band.

Nevertheless, I kept that ball for several decades, packing it around to whatever town I moved to, still proud of the signatures of at least two Hall of Famers. Lost the ball several years ago, along with tons of baseball cards and a machine-autographed Minnesota Twins ball, also in one of those plastic display balls.

Still don’t know who Harry Smith was, but I would bet he was the annoying one who played the cymbals.