Happy Saturday!

Richie Hebner.

Back in the ’70s, he played third base for the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Some pretty damn good Pirate teams.

He helped the Buccos win a World Series in 1971.

18 seasons in the big leagues.

Another 26 years coaching.

Nearly half a century in baseball.

But that’s only part of his story.

Boy, could he dig a grave!

This week, we caught up with Richie for a chat.

Richie was a grave digger.

For more than 30 years.

That's right…a grave digger.

Hebner's family managed cemeteries back home in Massachusetts.

So of course Richie picked up a shovel.

It began back in high school.

“I could shovel, I liked doing it. It's good exercise and something to do.”

And it continued even after he made it to the Major Leagues.

Every offseason, Hebner was home digging away.

Big-league third baseman?

World Series champion?

Didn't matter.

Grab the shovel.

In 1975, the Pirates lost to Cincinnati in the NLCS.

“Three days later, I'm digging a grave. How about that switch?”

His dad could be a stickler.

One day, he complained that a grave his son had dug wasn't deep enough.

Richie's response?

“Well, I've yet to see anyone come up.”

Word of Hebner’s unusual offseason job made the rounds at the ballpark.

One afternoon, while playing the San Francisco Giants, Willie Mays came sliding into third base.

He looked at Hebner and asked:

“Are you that kid from Boston who digs graves and buries people?”

Richie didn't miss a beat.

“You not feeling good, Willie?”

Mays fired back:

“Don’t come to me. I’m not hanging around here too long.”

A pitch later, Mays scored on a wild pitch.

The next day, Mays found Hebner near the batting cage, put his arm around him and said:

“Kid, I told you I wasn’t hanging around you too long.”

When his family gave up the cemetery business, Richie found a new gig.

Driving a hearse.

I kid you not.

As Richie put it:

“It’s a very quiet job. Nobody gives you any crap.”

Though every now and then, baseball and the funeral business would collide.

Like the time Richie was driving a hearse to a cemetery when his phone rang.

It was the Baltimore Orioles' farm director.

At the time, Richie was working as a hitting coach.

“I had the casket in the hearse and I get fired driving the hearse.”

Some timing.

And Richie is still driving a hearse today.

He told me he has five funerals coming up next week.

Yes, we did talk some baseball.

Richie told me about his first Major League plate appearance.

September 23, 1968.

The Pirates were playing the Cincinnati Reds.

On the mound?

Jim Maloney.

The Reds’ hard-throwing right-hander.

Manny Jiménez had just been ejected for arguing balls and strikes.

So Richie got the call to pinch-hit.

There was just one problem.

The count was already 0–2.

Not exactly how you’d want to make your Major League debut.

The first pitch to Hebner was a pitchout.

The runner was thrown out trying to steal second.

Inning over.

Richie headed back to the dugout and said:

“The son of a bitch didn’t strike me out.”

Hebner doesn't watch much baseball these days.

“You watch some of these games, they get over after midnight. I'm not that loyal a baseball fan.”

And don't get him started on today's home run celebrations.

“Guys hit home runs and they put stuff on their head when they get in the dugout and make gestures. If you did that when I played, you would've gotten drilled the next time up.”

With another labor fight looming, I asked Richie if he thought there would be a season in ’27.

“It doesn't look good. I sat through three strikes during my career and I lost probably $150,000, which is a lot of money now and a lot of money when I played in the ’70s.”

After nearly half a century in baseball, I asked Richie how he'd like fans to remember him.

I asked Richie how he'd like baseball fans to remember him.

“I played hard. I played on a Pirates team and they played hard. If you didn't play hard, you felt like a schmuck.”

Hebner turns 79 on Thanksgiving Day.

“I've had a very unusual life.”

He still walks three miles almost every day.

An old coach once told him, “Use your legs until you can't use them.”

As we wrapped up, Richie told me to call back if I had more questions.

With one condition.

“Make sure you call me in the afternoon, because I have a lot of funerals in the morning—and I don't want to disappoint anybody.”

So, if you wanna get a hold of the Grave Digger.

Try him after lunch.

John Boxley

A Note About Sudden Sam

Sam McDowell died this week at 84.

We shared Sam’s story just a few weeks ago—not only about the overpowering pitcher known as “Sudden Sam,” but the man he became after baseball.

His was a remarkable second act.

Rest in peace, Sam.