Kid who noshed on leftover nachos at Busch returns -- to his amazement -- as Giants manager

ST. LOUIS -- Long before Tony Vitello walked into the visiting manager’s office at Busch Stadium on Monday afternoon, he sat down the right-field line at the old ballpark and watched a Cardinals playoff game against the Padres.

Vitello and his buddies were high schoolers without much money. At some point, the people sitting in the row in front of them left behind an unfinished tray of nachos.

Everybody wanted them. Nobody was willing to make the first move.

Eventually, one friend did.

Decades later, Vitello found himself looking back toward that same general area Monday and laughing at the distance between then and now.

“I thought about that earlier,” Vitello said. “I just kind of came out and ran [around the field], kind of got it all out of my system, so I can hopefully do a decent job tonight. But I looked over in that area and remembered [that] a high school guy eating leftover nachos in this stadium probably doesn’t belong in this spot.”

This spot is manager of the San Francisco Giants.

For the first time since taking over the club, Vitello returned Monday to manage a Major League game in the city that helped shape nearly everything about the way he views baseball.

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The St. Louis native grew up attending Cardinals games, played for his father, Greg, at De Smet Jesuit High School and later played and coached at the University of Missouri. Greg Vitello spent 46 years coaching high school baseball and soccer in the area and is a member of the Missouri Sports Hall of Fame.

So when Vitello walked through Busch Stadium on Monday, memories seemed to be everywhere.

He noticed the photo of Whitey Herzog hanging in the visiting manager’s office. He thought about Jack Buck. He remembered watching Will Clark slide into second at the old Busch Stadium and arguing with friends over Kevin Mitchell.

And then there was Sept. 8, 1998.

Vitello was sitting in left field when Mark McGwire hit his 62nd home run, breaking Roger Maris’ single-season record.

“I was in left field yelling, ‘Get up!’” Vitello said. “I sounded like an announcer at the time because it was a low line drive, but it was enough.”

No, Vitello didn’t come particularly close to catching it.

“Probably 20 yards,” he said, before joking, “Maybe I should just grab a ball from a bucket and say I caught the damn thing and sell it on eBay.”

Those memories are part of why Monday represented more than another stop on a late-season road trip.

Vitello grew up in a city where, as he remembers it, Opening Day was important enough for grade-school classrooms to count down toward it. He admired stars such as Ozzie Smith and Willie McGee, but what stuck with him just as much was how St. Louis embraced players who did the less glamorous things correctly.

“You get some louder cheers for a sac bunt than you do a home run at times,” Vitello said. “It’s nice to be around people that really know the game and appreciate when it’s played the right way.”

Vitello believes growing up around that culture shaped the coach he became.

“All of our roots go back to our childhood experiences,” he said. “And it was so important every day.”

This particular homecoming arrives during a complicated ending to Vitello’s first Major League season. The Giants entered Monday 62-88 and already eliminated from postseason contention. Vitello admitted he is “bummed” that the season is nearing its end, particularly because he has enjoyed watching San Francisco’s younger players develop.

For a few days, though, that work is happening in front of a distinctly familiar audience.

Vitello expected friends, former teammates and family members throughout Busch Stadium this week. His mother could drive to see him manage rather than fly to San Francisco. De Smet High plans to have a contingent at Tuesday’s game.

The Giants’ schedule doesn’t leave much time for nostalgia. Vitello arrived in St. Louis around 1:30 a.m. PT Monday after a series in San Diego, and his focus quickly shifted back toward finding a win.

Still, when the team bus rolled through downtown, he didn’t need directions. The Arch was there. So was the ballpark. So were decades of memories.

Asked if he ever imagined returning here this way, Vitello didn’t hesitate.

“No chance,” he said.

And yet, on Monday afternoon, there he was.