Decades before cellphone cameras, jumbotrons and social media receipts, a Northern Kentucky kid learned the hard way that the truth will always come to light.
And for him, his lesson came when his truancy was eternalized in newsprint 67 years ago.
Steve Saner is an 80-year-old resident of Fort Thomas, who's enjoying a quiet life these days, spending most of his time fishing, hunting, watching sports and spending time with family.
But, in his own words, he was once a "snotty-nosed" young kid who absolutely loved baseball. So much so that in the late 1950s, he'd often ditch school to catch Cincinnati Reds games at the old Crosley Field.
"I caught every game I could," Saner said.
The 13-year-old did well to keep this secret from his parents. That was until The Enquirer blew his cover on a day the Pittsburgh Pirates were in town, including all-time great Roberto Clemente.
Saner grew up in Bellevue across the Ohio River from Cincinnati. He was a student at Sacred Heart School − now Holy Trinity − where he and two friends used to distribute milk to classrooms after it was delivered by the milk truck.
However, on a warm afternoon April 15, 1959, he and his friends devised a plan to skip school after they finished passing out the milk that day. Their plan worked without a hitch, as Saner and his friends left school, walked over the bridge into Cincinnati and made their way to the West End, where Crosley Field was once located.
Saner fondly remembers what it was like arriving at the ballpark during gameday. The sounds of the game and the smell of all the food, including the hot dogs and the peanuts roasted by the fabled Peanut Jim, are what made it all so special.
"When you went to a game, you were part of it," Saner said of Crosley Field's fan-friendly atmosphere. "The crack of the bat, the ball hitting the catcher's mitt, you heard all that. You felt it ... That's why we went."
Once at the game, Saner was a "ball hawk," constantly moving around the park to catch balls that were hit into the stands, even jumping over fences to get into off-limit areas. He was so committed to catching balls that he'd study hitters' tendencies to predict where they were going to hit.
"When they batted or when they lined a foul ball, I knew I was going to be there," said Saner, who would then sell the balls to help pay for his ticket to the next game, which was a modest 50 cents a pop back then.
In the third inning of that fateful game on April 15, Saner stood in the right-field bleachers, right behind Clemente. Up at bat was Reds outfielder Jerry Lynch, who crushed a ball to right field that sailed over the outstretched arm of Clemente and into the stands. The homer helped lead the Reds to a 10-5 win that day.
Saner managed to snag the home run ball after it landed under the bench seats. He was at the right place at the right time, or so he thought.
Little did Saner know that the play was captured on camera, and it ultimately led to his undoing.
Later that evening, Saner's father, a Boy Scout leader, took a Cub Scout group on a tour of The Enquirer's press room. As the sports section came across the press, his father caught of a glimpse of a peculiar photo, shot by the Associated Press' Gene Smith.
The photo featured Clemente trying to make a play on Lynch's would-be home run, as well as Saner, his own son, cheering in the background.
Saner's father asked the staff for a copy of the photo, which he used as evidence to confront his son when he got home from the tour. The jig was up and Saner did receive somewhat of a scolding, but he also felt his father let him off fairly easily.
"He kind of let me go because it was related to baseball," Saner said of his father, who was usually strict but a big baseball fan too. "When I did something wrong, I got punished for it, but he kind of let that slide because it was baseball ... He was a great man."
Saner learned his lesson, no questions asked, and this stunt marked the last time he would ever skip school. But it wasn't the last time Saner went to a Reds game.