Baseball

I love the game of baseball. I have for as long as I can remember. My biggest dream as a child was to be a professional baseball player. I remember as a four year old following my older brothers to Affolter Park on my bike (it still had training wheels) to watch them play tee ball. The coach at the time was a guy named Bob Samms. He asked one day why I wasn’t playing? When I told him that I wasn’t old enough, you had to be five, he told me to just get out there. He even gave me a mitt to use.

I fell in love with the Detroit Tigers in the summer of 67, I was six, the season came down to the last game of the year and Fred Gladding was the losing pitcher as the Boston Red Sox won the pennant. My brothers and I were in the car listening to the game as my mother was shopping in the local fruit market. I’ll never forget my oldest brother crying in the back seat as the final out was made.

My first live game was in the magical season of 1968. My mother along with a friend of hers, Jean Knauss, took all of us to see the Tigers against the Oakland A’s. Denny McLain pitched and won his 17’th game of the year, he went on to win 31 as the Tigers went on to win the World Series. I will always remember the vastness of the field, how green it was, the smell and the sounds. I went down to where the visiting teams’ bullpen was and got autographs from Rollie Fingers and Ken Holtzman, both future stars. 1968 was also the year I started to read the sports section religiously. I would devour the stats and memorize lineups for all the teams that the Tigers would play.

Every year in April when opening day comes around, it’s very much like a religious experience for me. It’s almost laughable, I don’t sleep the night before and I’m so excited it’s almost like a little kid at Christmas. Since the advent of cable television, I can watch games from noon on opening day till past midnight. I have been known to tell people that opening day is the only thing I’ve ever seen that could be proof of a living god. I know it’s been said before but I truly feel that once a new season starts, all is well with the world; things are as they should be. Baseball has given me every emotion known to man. Hell, the anticipation alone of a new season is enough to put me completely at ease with my lot in life.

There is no way I could ever count the amount of games I’ve seen live at Tiger Stadium, and after moving to California, the different stadiums out there. I still get the same feeling when I walk into a stadium to see a live game. The life that emanates from the field almost feels like it was meant for me. I love having my scorecard, keeping track of each pitch and watching the drama unfold. I know most of you don’t understand that but there really is drama unfolding with every pitch. Watching a game, be it live or on the tube, gives me that peaceful easy feeling the Eagles sang about. If I ever feel the need to recharge my batteries all I need to do is watch a game. It really doesn’t matter who’s playing, as long as the field is green and the vendors are hawking, all is well. I think most would agree that there is little in life that can make you feel better than seeing a little kid, five or six, with a glove three times the size of their hand, pounding their little fists into it waiting for that foul ball or homerun to land in it. I think all of us have wanted to be that kid at one point. I know I do everyday.