My mom’s brother, one of three men I had the pleasure of calling Uncle Bill, was a big New York Yankees fan. My grandma Rose was also a longtime Yankee supporter, but not as big as my Uncle Bill Schrantz.

It was that Uncle Bill who fueled my enduring love for then manager Casey Stengel’s team in the Bronx.

Uncle Bill lived in a small room upstairs in my grandma’s home on upper Deer Street in Dunkirk. My dad, Mark, my mom, Jean, and I lived there, too, in my earliest years. Brother Tom arrived a year after me in 1951, sisters Kathy (1953) and Mary (1954) followed.

Bill had served in World War II and, according to family accounts, came home a drastically changed young man.

Mickey Mantle

He was part of an outfit that liberated survivors from concentration camps. He saw, heard and smelled much more than any 19- or 20-year-old should ever experience.

His entire first year home, he spent in his room, only emerging late at night. Understandably, he was unusually sad, quiet and reserved.

As the first grandchild I naturally received a lot of love and attention from my numerous aunts and uncles.

Uncle Bill was my far-and-away favorite. He would often silently enter a room and then jingle the seemingly endless supply of coins in his pants pocket.

Pavlov’s dogs had nothing on me. I would hear that and immediately respond. I’d quickly toddle over to see his handful of glistening silver and copper and was instantly rewarded. But there always had to be a “please” and “thank you” involved. It was one of society’s innumerable rules one should learn and practice from a young age.

Bill Hammond

Uncle Bill taught me many lessons, daily correcting my behavior. From closing my mouth when I chewed to not talking with my mouth full to saying prayers before meals and brushing my teeth after, Uncle Bill was a stickler for good, healthy behavior.

As you can see, he and I interacted often around mealtime. That’s when he’d fill me in on his Yankees.

He made an instant convert. I trusted his judgment on baseball and more. Heck, we even had the same first name.

I was, however, the only Bill in the house who was expected to respond to “Little Billy” or regrettably “My Little Wilson.” The less we say of the despised “Billy Boy” the better.

Anyway, I was 5 the summer of 1956 when Yankee superstar Mickey Mantle had his greatest season, winning the American League Triple Crown — leading all hitters in home runs (52), batting average (.353) and runs batted in (130) and winning the Most Valuable Player Award.

Uncle Bill would cut out stories and pictures about The Mick for me and I eventually had myself a pretty substantial Mickey Mantle scrapbook.

I became a reader at a young age, and truly believe those articles helped my early development. Those and the backs of cereal boxes at the breakfast table, of course.

I still believe I may find that long-lost scrapbook some day. Might even be valuable. It very well could be up in the attic. There are many explorable areas up there — chests, dressers, metal clothes cabinets and cardboard boxes, lots of cardboard boxes, where a scrapbook could be uncovered.

Or it could be buried in my mom’s cedar chest along with my baby clothes, plus her vintage dresses, hats and purses from the mid-20th century.

There’s a sound system and television set with base atop that cherished chest today, so it’s not going to be explored anytime soon.

The attic and that chest may very well give up their secrets one day, but my Uncle Bill never did. He kept all of his life-altering war stories to himself. Unfortunately, cancer claimed him way too early.

So, thanks for turning me into a lifetime baseball fan, Uncle Bill. I’ve never regretted it or the precious few moments we had together. You were my first hero. Long before Mickey Mantle.

By the way, our Yankees are going all the way this year.

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DO YOU have a favorite, funny, weird, best or worst memory of amateur sports refereeing, playing or spectating? Drop me a line at mandpp@hotmail.com and let’s reminisce.

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Bill Hammond is a former EVENING OBSERVER sports editor.