I worked summers as a ticket booth operator at a minor league baseball stadium for around 3 years.

The owner was this really nice old guy (mid to late 80s) who always showed up in a wheelchair being walked by his daughter.

He always rewarded his employees with bonuses for good work. he even gave me $300 once for helping cash out one of his close childhood friends.

One of the final games I worked there he called me into his owners box and gave me beer and free food as well as $1500, just to thank me for all the hard work I did for him over the years.

He told me the reason he liked me so much was because I didn't pretend to like him because of who he was. Confused, I asked him to clarify. And he asked me if I seriously didn't know. I was still confused and then he told me the truth, he was actually a Hall of Fame pitcher who played with the Cleveland Indians and Philadelphia A's from the 1940s-early 1960s and even served in WW2. And showed me a replica of his Hall of Fame plaque.

We laughed about it and he further insinuated why he liked me so much.

He passed away around a year after this and I attended his funeral.

All around an amazing dude and I feel like such and idiot for not knowing who he was.