My Pop’s Baseball Mentor
My father, Harry Hoffman, grew up on the sandlots of Atlantic City, a young boy who loved the game of baseball and was a terrific shortstop from his Little League days to his years playing for Atlantic City High School. He didn’t grow up idolizing Babe Ruth or 
Lou Gehrig. His baseball role model was closer to home.
Carole Mattessich’s wonderful article in this week’s A.C. Weekly reminded me of what my mom told me several years ago. My dad learned baseball from Atlantic City’s great Negro League star and eventual MLB Hall of Fame player John Henry “Pop” Lloyd. Pop Lloyd loved the game, and so when a little white boy hung out and watched him playing for the semi-pro Johnson Stars in the 1930s, he took that small boy under his wing. He taught him the game. He taught him to play hard and play smart, how pitchers worked hitters and how hitters could work them right back. Lloyd taught him how to keep score, and so that’s what my pop did. When the Johnson Stars played, he kept score in the dugout, sitting next to Pop Lloyd.
My father’s baseball days ended with a bad knee injury and World War II. However, he used his love of the game in his work. He went on to become a popular sportswriter at the Atlantic City Press for 28 years. I didn’t know about Pop Lloyd until my teenage years, but I always called my father Pop. At the time, I didn’t know why he got such a kick out of that. My father and my mother, an athlete herself, taught me a love of the game. They also taught me that all people should be treated with respect, no matter what the color of their skin. Pop Lloyd taught him that, too.
My father died of a heart attack in Chicago in September of 1980, while covering the Phillies during the pennant race that would eventually culminate in the team’s only World Series win. My father was only 56 when he died. I turn 55 this week.
In some small measure, my love of the game was passed down from Pop Lloyd to my pop to me.
