THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM

By Joe Rein

As a kid, I had a buddy named Sal, who was a tough street fighter and gave it a shot as a pro heavyweight. No amateur experience--just balls and a big punch.

Sal worshiped at the shrine of Joe DiMaggio; everything out of his mouth was: Joe DiMaggio this and Joe DiMaggio that, and he was the best Italian athlete ever...and blah, blah, blah. It never stopped.

Every day Sal took a pounding sparring, and it was worse in the few prelims that he got.

When he packed-it-in, Sal opened an Italian restaurant in Queens, named after his idol: "Jolt'n Joe's." Every inch inside was covered with pictures and paintings of DiMaggio, newspaper clippings about him, and the wallpaper was all Yankee pinstripes.

For years, the guys would go in Jolt'n Joe's for dinner every week, but you could hardly eat, with all Sal's DiMaggio stories.

I had a friend who did some business with people connected to DiMaggio, and I told him all about Sal and what a thrill it would be for him if DiMaggio would come to his restaurant.

Not too long after, the guy calls me back and says Joe will do it this Friday at 8 P.M.

So, I round up all our friends, and we make it our business to be in the restaurant early. We couldn't wait to see Sal's reaction when DiMaggio came in the door.

We all made small talk...but it was killing us. Finally, the door opens and there's DiMaggio--"Joe D," in person-- as dapper as you could imagine in a double-breasted sharkskin suit.

I thought Sal was going to have a coronary. His mouth dropped open; his eyes went wide. He practically leaped over to where DiMaggio was: "Joe...Joe! This is the greatest dream of my life! I never thought I would ever meet you. Look... your pictures are every place!... You've been my hero since I was kid!"

We had to fight back the tears.

"Sit! sit! Joe. I make you something personally" Sal almost kissed us as he headed into the kitchen.

Joe was seated and waited. We were feeling wonderful to see Sal's dream come true.

When Sal came out and placed the food on the table, he said to Joe, with his eyes glistening: "My son feels the same way about you that I do, Joe. Could you autograph this menu... to Paulie?"

DiMaggio looked up and said, "I get $5 for that."

All the air was sucked out of the room.

Sal looked at him... not believing what he heard, then hurled himself on top of DiMaggio, trying to strangle him, yelling, "YOU MISERABLE MUTHA FUCKER!

It took all of us to pull him off DiMaggio. Sal kept trying to dive back at him. We were barely able to get DiMaggio out of there and back into his car.

Be careful what you wish for... you may get it.

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