Despite the fact that I had won the game winning ball I was still a runt and I was still pretty much a spaz when it came to baseball. With that in mind you can understand my adoration and hero worship of people who could actually play baseball and play it well. It was the late 70′s and the New York Yankees were dominant. I can remember watching Bucky Dent hit the game wining homer over the green monster, Chris Chamblis game winning home run when the fans rushed the field, and Mr October, Reggie Jackson hitting those three home run shots. Sadly I can even remember when Thurman Munson the first Yankee Captain since Lou Gehrig, died in a fatal plane crash.
One year my dad (who I later learned was really my step dad) took me to my first baseball game at Yankee Stadium. I remember being so excited on the way there, I was so filled with anticipation I could hardly keep still for the whole car ride there. On the way to our seats he got some hot dogs, soda and a program. We then walked up to the middle level to our seats. Slowly we walked up the sloping tunnel to our seats the tunnel was dark and dingy, but when we reached the end, it was like the Wizard of OZ, there was an explosion of color. The grass was so green and bright it was blinding, the infield dirt was the most perfect shade of brown, and the blue padding along the outfield walls was overpowering. It was the most perfect thing a small boy could ever hope to see. We sat in our seats and waited for the game to start. When the announcer came on the loudspeaker it was like God himself was visiting the stadium. I remember the roar of the crowd when the Yankees took the field. I can’t remember who they played but, I do remember keeping score, a skill that is on the decline I hear. I remember bringing my glove hoping to catch a foul ball, but nothing came close.
I don’t remember the final score, who won, or if it was good game or not. However for me, the perfect brilliant intenseness of the colors, eating a hot dog at baseball game with your dad, the announcers booming voice, the camaraderie of cheering and being part of the crowd … for me it was the most perfect game of all.
to be continued (my last game of baseball)
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