Take me out to the ball game.
I had never seen grass so green. A sky so blue. The white uniforms with the red numbers looked almost magical against the back drop of the blue sky and the big green wall at the other end of the field. The sun was so bright reflecting off the white of the home uniforms, it was blinding. We sat in seats the behind the home dugout. I could see the players faces as they came off the field between innings. I heard words from the dugout that my father would use when the quarterback at Notre Dame had just thrown an interception. These guys were playing a different game than the one that I played with my friends. For one thing right field was open because they had the right number of players. They didn't have two brothers fighting on pitchers mound about which one would pitch and which one would play third base. I would go to a couple of games each summer. I went with my dad and they are probably some of the best memories that I have of him and I together. We never did a lot together especially as I got older but the days at Fenway were the best in my mind. We would get there early only because my dad wanted a parking spot that was free, even if it was miles from the stadium. I didn't mind walking because we always got their early enough to see batting practice. The players would warm up before the game some even having conversations with the fans in the front rows. I remember this tall skinny player who seemed to attract a lot of attention but ignored most everyone from the press to the autograph seekers focusing instead on his all important batting practice. He wore number 9 and played left field and he was my favorite player. And if he hit a home run it was because I willed it to happen ,that and maybe the fact that he had a near perfect swing. I remember the peanuts came in a small brown bag and there were never enough and a hot dog came out of this massive container the men with huge arms would carry up and down the rows yelling some unintelligible language as the steam from the container enveloped there sunburned faces.
It was a glorious time to be a kid. I never knew if my dad enjoyed it as much as I did. I would usually fall asleep on the way home in back seat of the seatbeltless Chevy and listen to my dad curse the Boston drivers for the next 60 miles.
Well I'm cleaning out what is left of his stuff in the our basement apartment, a place that he lived in for a few years before he died. I found a box with some personal stuff in it. I hesitated as I opened and not knowing what I would find. It was filled with some memorabilia from his time in the military and the fire department as well as a few pictures but it was something in an envelope at the bottom that brought back all of these memories. Inside the envelope where a couple of ticket stubs. Two ticket stubs for box seats to a baseball game from a long time ago. Maybe , just maybe, he did enjoy it as much as I did after all.
Well I'm cleaning out what is left of his stuff in the our basement apartment, a place that he lived in for a few years before he died. I found a box with some personal stuff in it. I hesitated as I opened and not knowing what I would find. It was filled with some memorabilia from his time in the military and the fire department as well as a few pictures but it was something in an envelope at the bottom that brought back all of these memories. Inside the envelope where a couple of ticket stubs. Two ticket stubs for box seats to a baseball game from a long time ago. Maybe , just maybe, he did enjoy it as much as I did after all.
