One of the most likable, most genuine guys I've met in this business. He didn't have a phony bone in his body, and not an ounce of ego, even though he'd done more than enough to merit one. Not only did he tolerate young punks like me on the road, he'd take us to dinner (never any place too pretentious), and by the time we'd have our first bite of food, Neil was already lifelong friends with the bellman, the cab driver, the waitress and the guy busing tables. He'd make them all laugh, and he laughed right along with them.
He had tons of stories about his Astros days, but my favorite one was this: One night on the first road trip of the season, he went down to the hotel bar and saw Dave Smith, the relief pitcher, a couple of stools down. Smith, Neil said, came from a wealthy family and never cared too much about money. When Smith got up to leave, he left $500 on the bar. The bartender, sure that this was a mistake, gave the change to Neil. When Neil tried to give it back to Smith in the clubhouse the next day, Smith told him to keep it.
So reluctantly Neil did keep it, but he stuffed it in an envelope. Turns out, all summer long this same scene kept repeating himself. And at the end of September, Neil took the envelope, gave it to the Boys and Girls Club or some such charity, and presented Smith with a receipt for a donation of several thousand dollars. I never asked Neil the natural question, but if you knew him, you didn't have to.
There was no way he even kept a dime.