I’ll start by saying I was never really a Seinfeld fan. I know people swear it’s the greatest show ever, but it never really clicked for me. That said, there’s one episode where Kramer claims he saw Joe DiMaggio at Dinky Donuts - and it’s actually pretty hilarious. Jerry, of course, refuses to believe DiMaggio would ever eat at a place like that.
I can’t see Joe DiMaggio sitting at the counter in little tiny filthy smelly Dinky Donuts. Jerry Seinfeld, Season 3, Episode 1
I saw that episode when it first aired, and it cracked me up - because two years earlier, I’d actually met Joe DiMaggio on one of the most random days of my life.
In 1989, teachers all over California walked out of their classrooms and went on strike. I grew up in what was then a small town called Danville, CA. I was in 8th grade, and every morning my friends and I would ride our bikes to school together.
But the morning of May 16th was different. We rolled up to school and found our teachers out on the picket line - which could only mean one thing:
SCHOOL WAS CANCELED… AND OUR PARENTS HAD NO IDEA.
So, naturally, we did what any delinquent kids would do - we said nothing to our working parents and rode our bikes downtown to the local baseball card shop. At the time, our world revolved around two things: skateboards and baseball cards.
I didn’t have a dime on me that day, so I was just hanging out, looking at cards I couldn’t afford, when suddenly the door flew open. A grown man burst into the shop, wide-eyed and out of breath, and shouted: “I need a baseball! Right now!! Joe DiMaggio is eating at Flakey Jake’s!!!”
Now, first of all, my immediate reaction was that this guy had completely lost it. He burst into the shop, yelling like a lunatic. Also - and let’s be honest here - I was in 8th grade, and 8th graders are idiots. I distinctly remember thinking, “Wait… isn’t Joe DiMaggio dead? He’s like 100 years old.”
My very next thought was, “Okay, if he’s somehow alive, what the hell is he doing in Danville? And why on earth would he be eating at Flakey Jake’s? That place sucks.”
For those who never had the pleasure, Flakey Jake’s was a pretty mediocre burger joint. We had one in Danville. It was owned by the parents of a kid I’d eventually graduate with from Monte Vista - and even that wasn’t considered cool.
You’d go up to the register, order a pretty crappy burger, and then head over to what was supposedly the big “draw” of the place: a toppings station where you could ladle melted cheeses - plural - all over your food. It was exactly as disgusting as it sounds. I’m not kidding - it was awful.
So, the consensus among us kids in the shop was: we had to go check it out. Flakey Jake’s was in the next shopping center over from Talking Baseball, where we were currently loitering.
We got there - and sure enough, there he was. Joe DiMaggio. Just casually eating lunch at a table near the window. We were all buzzing. A representative with him came outside and told us Joe would be happy to come say hello after he finished his meal, so we waited.
When he came out, he talked to all of us. He wouldn’t sign any baseballs, but he was willing to sign scraps of paper - which, luckily, was all I had. He signed my 8.5” x 11” piece of school paper twice.
I tore the paper in half to keep both signatures, and I still have one of them to this day. My only regret is that I didn’t buy a disposable camera - that would’ve been way cooler in hindsight. But I was twelve, and broke, so it didn’t matter.
May 16, 1989: I met Joe DiMaggio after he finished what was no doubt a terrible lunch at Flakey Jake’s. He was kind, generous with his time, and signed something for every one of us.
To this day, it’s easily one of the best days of my life.
Which brings me back to that Seinfeld episode. There must’ve been something about Joe DiMaggio and his quiet appreciation for places that were a little… well, not great.
And I’ll forever love that episode for that connection to my real-life experience.
