Richard Foley loved the New York Yankees, and “only the Yankees.” He eventually made a
believer out of me. I met Richie in 1977, when he was four years old. I pastored a small church in
West Orange, New Jersey. I had never experienced a child like Richie. I learned quickly that
wherever Richie went, chaos followed. Someone once called him an “extrovert to the max.”
I easily agreed with that point of view.
By the age of 12, Richie had been diagnosed as autistic. It was not until I saw the movie, “Rain
Man” in 1988 that I understood what all that meant. Like the movie’s character, Raymond, Richie’s
ability to understanding complex numbers, math and music was only superseded by his
unbelievable statistical memory. “Richie,” I asked, “How did you learn so much about the
Yankees?” He responded, “Pastor Wiggs, it’s easy. Yankee Stadium is just across the river.
You’ve just got to pay attention. You can learn it too.”
A good friend and I took our children and Richie to Yankee Stadium several times. On the trip to
the Bronx, Richie talked constantly about the Yankees. He knew everything. He taught me about
Thurman Munson, Graig Nettles, Bucky Dent, Reggie Jackson, Lou Piniella, Ron Guidry, Catfish
Hunter, Roy White, Ed Figueroa, Sparky Lyle, Willie Randolph and many more.
Once, when we were at Yankee Stadium, the announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, there is a
special guest with us tonight...” Richie lit up. Just a few rows in front of us, Mickey Mantle
turned and waved right in our direction. I never heard the end of it. He knew every statistic
about Mantle. That night, we learned that he was born on October 20, 1931. His first game was
April 17, 1951 and his final game was September 28, 1968. “How did you learn so much about
Mantel?” I asked. He shouted back, “It’s easy, he’s my all time favorite Yankee. He’s the best
man to ever play the game. They put him in the Hall of Fame in 1974 when I was just a baby. I have
always loved Mickey Mantle.”
Richie’s cunning intelligence surprised me constantly. For ten years, he attended church
regularly. He never stopped talking. No one could keep up with him mentally or physically. His
mind was a never-ending roller coaster and his body an ever-moving machine.
Often, after church, Richie wanted to talk with me. He always asked me to pray with him. There
were two that he wanted to pray for most often, his father and his hero, Mickey Mantel. “Mickey
and my dad both drink all the time. Pray for them, please pray for them,” he implored. We prayed
for them both regularly.
At one of our prayer sessions, Richie said to me, “Pastor Wiggs, I want to be a preacher like you.
Will you teach me how?” “Sure,” I responded, “You can remember everything, so just listen to
me when I preach.” Richie started persistently telling me that he wanted to preach in church
some day. Several weeks later, I gave an open opportunity for individuals to give a “testimony”
of their spiritual progress. For Richie, it was his, dream-come-true, first “sermon” in church.
He quickly took advantage of the opportunity, jumped up from his seat, and ran to the front of the
sanctuary. I surrendered to his excitement and let him go. What else could I do? He stood at a
small lectern with a Bible in his hands and began, “Pastor Wiggs said I could preach, so I have
been listening to him and I have been practicing. I stood up at the front of my school bus last
week and told everyone that Jesus loved them. They made fun of me and told me to sit down,
but I kept on preaching. They will never be able to say that they did not hear.” That night, Richie,
genuinely shared his love for Jesus. He wept uncontrollably as he said, “I want everyone I know
to be saved, including my dad and Mickey Mantle.” After about five minutes, he concluded by
quoting John 3:16. He got every word right, abruptly turned, gave me a look of self-approval and
walked amazingly slow to the front pew and sat down. I gave him a “thumbs-up” as everyone
applauded and wept for the joy of a little boy sharing his faith.
I will never forget the day that Richie ran away from home for the first time. He seemed so young.
His mother called me, talking hysterically, “He’s been gone for hours. I’ve walked all over the
neighborhood calling him. What should I do?” “Did you call the police?” I asked. She wept out
the answer, “They won’t do anything until he’s been gone for twenty-four hours. Please help me,
Pastor Wiggs!” “I’ll be right there,” I assured her. “Call some neighbors and get some help.” By
the time I reached the Foley home, Richie had returned. I ran to him, embraced him and cried,
“Richie, don’t you know how you scared your mother?” He looked sad and spoke softly, “No big
deal, I was just roaming around, I wanted to take a walk. When I got lost, I asked a policeman to
help me. He brought me home. That’s all.” He snuggled close to his mother, “I’m sorry I scared
you.”
On January 7, 1994, at the urging of his family and friends, Mickey Mantel was admitted to the
Betty Ford Center for alcohol rehabilitation. His self destructive life-style had finally caught up
with him. Instead of drinking, he began to spread the message of the consequences of drug and
alcohol abuse to young people. Forty years of heavy drinking had destroyed his liver, brought on
hepatitis, and was followed by cancer. His only hope was a liver transplant.
During Richie’s seventeenth year he became a regular “roamer,” hitchhiking alone around the
country. To make a good impression, he showed off his organ-donor card to everyone and quoted
scriptures at local missions. That would usually get him a meal and somewhere to sleep. When
lost, he would find a policeman to help him get home.
At the age of 22, Richie went “roaming” for the last time. This trip lasted several months. He
traveled across the country, passing through many cities, until finally and fatally, he stepped off a
curb in Midland, Texas and was struck by a car. He died on July 6, 1995 with the tattered organ-
donor card in his pocket.
In early July, Mickey Mantel was gravely ill, barely holding on to life. His family and doctors hoped
for a liver donor. Then, on July 8, according to the Newark, NJ Star Ledger, he received a
transplanted liver at Baylor University Medical Center in Dallas, Texas. Foley had type O blood,
just what Mantle needed. A few days later, Richie was buried in Keansburg, NJ, with his
pallbearers each wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. After the transplant, Mickey’s cancer
remained. It began spreading aggressively. Again, his death seemed imminent, but he was given
a few extra weeks allowing him to take care of some important business in the final inning of his
life.
During the All-Star break in Dallas, Mickey called an old teammate, former Yankee, Bobby
Richardson, a committed Christian, asking him to pray for him. Bobby came to the hospital to talk
to his friend. “Mickey,” he said, “I love you, and I want you to spend eternity in Heaven with me.”
Mantle responded, “Bobby, I have asked for forgiveness from God for my wasted life.” For years
Bobby Richardson had talked to Mickey about the Lord, and now, in the final inning of his life the
famous ballplayer hit his last and longest home run. Bobby asked, “Mickey, how do you know you
will spend eternity with God in heaven.” Mickey, took a few moments to reflect and then quoted
John 3:16. That’s all he needed to know.
Mickey Mantle died on August 13, 1995, at the age of 63. Richard Foley’s prayers were answered.
His hero had successfully finished the game. “The Mick’s” funeral was held on August 15, 1995, in
Dallas, Texas. At Mantle’s request, Bobby Richardson gave the eulogy.
believer out of me. I met Richie in 1977, when he was four years old. I pastored a small church in
West Orange, New Jersey. I had never experienced a child like Richie. I learned quickly that
wherever Richie went, chaos followed. Someone once called him an “extrovert to the max.”
I easily agreed with that point of view.
By the age of 12, Richie had been diagnosed as autistic. It was not until I saw the movie, “Rain
Man” in 1988 that I understood what all that meant. Like the movie’s character, Raymond, Richie’s
ability to understanding complex numbers, math and music was only superseded by his
unbelievable statistical memory. “Richie,” I asked, “How did you learn so much about the
Yankees?” He responded, “Pastor Wiggs, it’s easy. Yankee Stadium is just across the river.
You’ve just got to pay attention. You can learn it too.”
A good friend and I took our children and Richie to Yankee Stadium several times. On the trip to
the Bronx, Richie talked constantly about the Yankees. He knew everything. He taught me about
Thurman Munson, Graig Nettles, Bucky Dent, Reggie Jackson, Lou Piniella, Ron Guidry, Catfish
Hunter, Roy White, Ed Figueroa, Sparky Lyle, Willie Randolph and many more.
Once, when we were at Yankee Stadium, the announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, there is a
special guest with us tonight...” Richie lit up. Just a few rows in front of us, Mickey Mantle
turned and waved right in our direction. I never heard the end of it. He knew every statistic
about Mantle. That night, we learned that he was born on October 20, 1931. His first game was
April 17, 1951 and his final game was September 28, 1968. “How did you learn so much about
Mantel?” I asked. He shouted back, “It’s easy, he’s my all time favorite Yankee. He’s the best
man to ever play the game. They put him in the Hall of Fame in 1974 when I was just a baby. I have
always loved Mickey Mantle.”
Richie’s cunning intelligence surprised me constantly. For ten years, he attended church
regularly. He never stopped talking. No one could keep up with him mentally or physically. His
mind was a never-ending roller coaster and his body an ever-moving machine.
Often, after church, Richie wanted to talk with me. He always asked me to pray with him. There
were two that he wanted to pray for most often, his father and his hero, Mickey Mantel. “Mickey
and my dad both drink all the time. Pray for them, please pray for them,” he implored. We prayed
for them both regularly.
At one of our prayer sessions, Richie said to me, “Pastor Wiggs, I want to be a preacher like you.
Will you teach me how?” “Sure,” I responded, “You can remember everything, so just listen to
me when I preach.” Richie started persistently telling me that he wanted to preach in church
some day. Several weeks later, I gave an open opportunity for individuals to give a “testimony”
of their spiritual progress. For Richie, it was his, dream-come-true, first “sermon” in church.
He quickly took advantage of the opportunity, jumped up from his seat, and ran to the front of the
sanctuary. I surrendered to his excitement and let him go. What else could I do? He stood at a
small lectern with a Bible in his hands and began, “Pastor Wiggs said I could preach, so I have
been listening to him and I have been practicing. I stood up at the front of my school bus last
week and told everyone that Jesus loved them. They made fun of me and told me to sit down,
but I kept on preaching. They will never be able to say that they did not hear.” That night, Richie,
genuinely shared his love for Jesus. He wept uncontrollably as he said, “I want everyone I know
to be saved, including my dad and Mickey Mantle.” After about five minutes, he concluded by
quoting John 3:16. He got every word right, abruptly turned, gave me a look of self-approval and
walked amazingly slow to the front pew and sat down. I gave him a “thumbs-up” as everyone
applauded and wept for the joy of a little boy sharing his faith.
I will never forget the day that Richie ran away from home for the first time. He seemed so young.
His mother called me, talking hysterically, “He’s been gone for hours. I’ve walked all over the
neighborhood calling him. What should I do?” “Did you call the police?” I asked. She wept out
the answer, “They won’t do anything until he’s been gone for twenty-four hours. Please help me,
Pastor Wiggs!” “I’ll be right there,” I assured her. “Call some neighbors and get some help.” By
the time I reached the Foley home, Richie had returned. I ran to him, embraced him and cried,
“Richie, don’t you know how you scared your mother?” He looked sad and spoke softly, “No big
deal, I was just roaming around, I wanted to take a walk. When I got lost, I asked a policeman to
help me. He brought me home. That’s all.” He snuggled close to his mother, “I’m sorry I scared
you.”
On January 7, 1994, at the urging of his family and friends, Mickey Mantel was admitted to the
Betty Ford Center for alcohol rehabilitation. His self destructive life-style had finally caught up
with him. Instead of drinking, he began to spread the message of the consequences of drug and
alcohol abuse to young people. Forty years of heavy drinking had destroyed his liver, brought on
hepatitis, and was followed by cancer. His only hope was a liver transplant.
During Richie’s seventeenth year he became a regular “roamer,” hitchhiking alone around the
country. To make a good impression, he showed off his organ-donor card to everyone and quoted
scriptures at local missions. That would usually get him a meal and somewhere to sleep. When
lost, he would find a policeman to help him get home.
At the age of 22, Richie went “roaming” for the last time. This trip lasted several months. He
traveled across the country, passing through many cities, until finally and fatally, he stepped off a
curb in Midland, Texas and was struck by a car. He died on July 6, 1995 with the tattered organ-
donor card in his pocket.
In early July, Mickey Mantel was gravely ill, barely holding on to life. His family and doctors hoped
for a liver donor. Then, on July 8, according to the Newark, NJ Star Ledger, he received a
transplanted liver at Baylor University Medical Center in Dallas, Texas. Foley had type O blood,
just what Mantle needed. A few days later, Richie was buried in Keansburg, NJ, with his
pallbearers each wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. After the transplant, Mickey’s cancer
remained. It began spreading aggressively. Again, his death seemed imminent, but he was given
a few extra weeks allowing him to take care of some important business in the final inning of his
life.
During the All-Star break in Dallas, Mickey called an old teammate, former Yankee, Bobby
Richardson, a committed Christian, asking him to pray for him. Bobby came to the hospital to talk
to his friend. “Mickey,” he said, “I love you, and I want you to spend eternity in Heaven with me.”
Mantle responded, “Bobby, I have asked for forgiveness from God for my wasted life.” For years
Bobby Richardson had talked to Mickey about the Lord, and now, in the final inning of his life the
famous ballplayer hit his last and longest home run. Bobby asked, “Mickey, how do you know you
will spend eternity with God in heaven.” Mickey, took a few moments to reflect and then quoted
John 3:16. That’s all he needed to know.
Mickey Mantle died on August 13, 1995, at the age of 63. Richard Foley’s prayers were answered.
His hero had successfully finished the game. “The Mick’s” funeral was held on August 15, 1995, in
Dallas, Texas. At Mantle’s request, Bobby Richardson gave the eulogy.
"Saving Mickey Mantle" is a condensed article from the book HOPE FOR YOU! By Ray Wiggs Click HOPE FOR YOU! TO FIND OUT HOW TO VIEW THE ENTIRE BOOK |
| SAVING MICKEY MANTLE AN INCREDIBLE TRUE STORY BY RAY WIGGS |
Richie & Bobby, thank you for “Saving Mickey Mantel.” Mickey, we are still rooting for your team. Go Yankees!" |
Click on the tabs below to view other pages. |
| READ HOW AN AUTISTIC, RICHIE FOLEY, SAVED THE MICK An Article Condensed From The Book HOPE FOR YOU! Copyright 2006 |
CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT HOW TO VIEW THE ENTIRE BOOK |
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form without my written permission.
You may print one copy of the article
or the entire book for your personal
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Thank you, Ray Wiggs
above article and the entire book in all
of its forms, No part of the book may
be reproduced, copied or sold in any
form without my written permission.
You may print one copy of the article
or the entire book for your personal
use only.
Thank you, Ray Wiggs
P.S. RICHIE FOLEY'S LIVER ALLOWED MICKEY MANTLE A FEW MORE TIMES AT BAT. FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE GAME HE TAUGHT KIDS AND THEIR PARENTS "DON'T DRINK OR DO DRUGS." BECAUSE OF RICHIE, MICKEY MANTLE ENCOURAGED TENS OF THOUSANDS TO BECOME ORGAN DONORS. BOBBY RICHARDSON, MICKEY'S YANKEES BUDDY,COACHED MICKEY THROUGH THE LAST AND GREATEST INNING OF HIS LIFE. |
| After you read "SAVING MICKEY MANTLE," I would love to have your comments. What did you think? What other kind of articles would interest you? Your response is appreciated. Thank you. |