Every Friday morning for more than five years, Benny Wasserman, a retired aerospace engineer and Albert Einstein lookalike, would put on his Detroit Tigers baseball uniform and go to the batting cages at Home Run Park near Knott's Berry Farm.
In January 2023, he emailed me to tell me that he had set a goal for himself: to have 90 mph fastballs on April 2, 2024, his 90th birthday. “I call it 90 in 90,” Wasserman wrote, adding that he had been dealing with prostate cancer and pulmonary fibrosis, but was undeterred.
At the first opportunity, she drove to Cerritos to meet Wasserman and his wife, Fern. They met on a blind date at El Monte Pizzeria and were approaching their 65th wedding anniversary.
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“When I run around the house, it makes my day,” Benny told me.
“He loves it,” Vern said.
Wasserman took me into his den and played “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” on his organs. He took me to his library – His love of books began as a young man when Carl Levin, a childhood friend who eventually became a U.S. senator from Michigan, gave him a copy of Jack London's “Martin Eden” as a wedding gift. He showed me folders of magazines he'd been working on for decades and took me into his backyard, which he'd turned into a miniature baseball park where he hit Wiffle balls from a pitching machine.
In January 2023, Benny Wasserman took a photo at the batting cages at Home Run Park, which he visited every Friday.
(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
I wasn't sure Wasserman could handle the heat, because a 90 mph fastball is what the top pitchers in the league throw. But he got into the batter's box, the pitching machine moved, and Benny Baseball went to work.
Earth. Engine line. Moon shot.
He made contact on almost every pitch, with a sharp eye and a quick flick of the wrists. A few of his drives had a home run.
“We all love it,” said Chris Wysong, Home Run Park manager. “He hits better than most agents do.”
After I wrote a column about him last year, Topps Trading Cards produced a set of Benny Wasserman baseball cards, and he emailed me a handful of them. He was interviewed by ESPN and was planning to attend the big “90 in 90” day for a story.
But in mid-February this year, Wasserman emailed to say his health was deteriorating. He said he had not given up on his goal of April 2, but his sons — two lawyers and a geriatrician — convinced him to visit the batting cage on March 3 and hold a “Celebration of Life” party afterward at his home.
On February 28, he emailed again to say he had undergone a blood transfusion and the concert had been postponed. “My temperature is fluctuating with chills and shivering, and I may have to go back to the ER soon,” he wrote. “Whatever happens I will keep you posted.”
Logan Wasserman, left, and his brother Gerrit give their grandmother Fern Wasserman a kiss at her husband's memorial service.
(Gennaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
And then, on March 11, I received this email from Vern:
“I just wanted to let you know that Benny passed away this morning!”
Benny Baseball died just three weeks before his 90th birthday. His eldest son, Dr. Mike Wasserman, said we could all learn lessons from his father about how to live long and healthy.
“A sense of purpose is a big thing,” Mike said, and while his father had many interests, his trips to the batting cage were a weekly highlight. “Socializing is another thing,” he said, adding that his father never lacked companionship. “The third is exercise. I've always told my patients: If you exercise regularly, I can reduce at least one prescription if not more.”
Cakes containing edible versions of Benny Wasserman's Topps baseball card were available at his memorial.
(Gennaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Mike, 65, said he believes doctors are too quick to prescribe medications to patients they don't really know. He said his father could have fought the cancer harder, but in consultation with his doctor son, he backed off chemotherapy at times because it made him too weak to do the things he loved.
“At the hospital… my dad wanted to be alert and they were giving him medication that made him less alert,” Mike said. “Doctors need to think about what they are doing and how it affects quality of life.”
For Wasserman's family, there was no hesitation about how to celebrate his life. On April 2, friends and family gathered at Home Run Park. Several of them entered the same cage that Benny always used and made their way through, but none hit the ball as consistently as the head of the family.
Cracker Jack and Big League Chew bubble packets were placed in Detroit Tigers souvenir cups near the batting cages. Benny's favorite chocolate chip cookies were topped with edible versions of his baseball cards.
Wasserman's children, eight grandchildren and two great-grandchildren wore Tigers jerseys bearing Benny's image, with the words “Silver Slugger” and “Long Live Benny” on the back. They wore ball caps emblazoned with some of Penny's favorite sayings, including, “When you know, you stop knowing,” meaning challenge your instincts, indulge your curiosity, and continue to educate yourself.
Vern Wasserman wears a memorial T-shirt for her late husband, Benny Wasserman, as family and friends gather to remember him at the batting cages at Home Run Park in Anaheim on April 2, 2024.
(Gennaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
“He was the most supportive person in the world,” said his grandson Gerrit Wasserman, 37, who told me he kept getting into trouble in his late teens and moved in with his grandparents for two years to recover. “If I said, ‘I want to try surfing,’ he would say, ‘Let’s go get you a surfboard.’ Let’s go do it! And he taught me to question everything.
“He was the best grandfather on the face of the earth,” said grandson Logan Wasserman, 33, who read Mitch Albom’s book “Tuesdays with Morrie” in high school and decided to visit his grandfather every Tuesday to talk about this, that and everything else. Logan is training for a marathon, and he said that when he doesn't feel like getting out of bed to do early morning road work, he finds motivation in his grandfather's refusal to succumb to cancer and lung disease despite being weakened by both.
“He was able to go into the cage the week before he died and hit the ball,” Vern said.
But it took every ounce of strength Wasserman had left.
“After his last hit, he almost passed out and we had to catch him” before he fell, said Craig Wasserman, Wasserman's middle son, 61.
Fern said she has a lot of rights to do, and she's grateful her granddaughter will be moving in with her to keep her company. She also thought of the Oscar-winning film “Oppenheimer,” starring a scientist named Albert.
“Benny would have made a better Einstein than the one they used,” she said of her husband, who got an agent, in his 50s, and began playing Einstein in TV shows, movies, commercials and at special events after someone told him. It was an uncanny resemblance.
Wasserman's children said their father experienced abuse and tragedy as a child. They said his father took the belt to him, and that his mother committed suicide when he was in elementary school. They said this might explain why he wanted to mentor young people, and why – coupled with a serious side and insatiable intellectual curiosity – he carried his childhood through to the end.
(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
His youngest son, Mark Wasserman, 55, now follows his father's routine. He goes to Home Run Park every Friday at 10 a.m., just like his father does, and takes cuts in the same batting cage.
“I'll be coming here until I'm 90. That's the plan,” said Mark, who had one last thought about his father.
“He came down swinging.”
Craig Wasserman, second from left, Benny Wasserman's middle son, mourns the loss of his father at a memorial service on April 2.
(Gennaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Steve.lopez@latimes.com
