I need to back up a few days to the World Series celebrations here in St. Louis. GO CARDS! What a thrill for our grandson, AND his Papaw! Let me just say that having no brothers or sons, I can only imagine what it would be like to be a 10-year old boy (who loves baseball!), growing up in a baseball town when your hometown team makes it to the World Series! It's the stuff Mom and apple pie (and apparently Chevy trucks), are made of, so I hear.
I grew up in Cincinnati, and have fond memories of my dad sitting in a lawn chair in the backyard listening to the Reds' on the radio go long into the ninth inning. I still know exactly how Marty Brennaman and Joe Nuxhall sounded announcing the play-by-play. Their voices are burned in my memory as they brass through that distant AM radio white noise while the crack of the bat and the faint cheer of the crowd play the backdrop. That's the sound of baseball to me. Occasionally Woody Gleason, from across the street, would bring by a bucket of leftover chicken the nights he worked the closing shift at the new Kentucky Fried Chicken. When we got to stay up late and eat chicken outside in our shortie pajamas while Dad listened to the game... that was summertime heaven. So, while I had no brothers or sons, I sure have an appreciation for America's favorite past time.
Fast-forward years later when I dated a kid that lived three blocks from me who use to sit with his Dad on their front porch and listen to the same games on the same nights. The only difference was they ate fried bologna sandwiches while we were eating Woody Gleason's leftover chicken. Doug grew up obsessed with the game, and went with his Dad as often as they could get the "company seats". In fact, our first official date was to a Red's game at the brand new Riverfront Stadium. We sat in the blue section in those "company seats" of The Ohio Knife Company, where his dad was an executive, and that, my friends, was a BIG deal! By the time we married, baseball was as much a part of who we were as our own DNA.
In our newlywed years Doug and his college roommates were hooked on this baseball boardgame where they managed their teams for hours while I was employed as non-paid "ground crew", which basically meant I was the concession stand (and eventual babysitter!). I did, however, learn who all the old valuable players were. Of course I had heard of Babe Ruth, Dizzy Dean and Hank Aaron, but I also became quite familiar with guys like Honus Wagoner, Ernie Banks, Tris Speaker, Carl Hubbell and Rogers Hornsby. They practically shared our little one bedroom married student apartment on Hart Street in Nashville, Tennessee, and moved with us to our next 2 places.
The next 15 years, or so, of our marriage I lost my husband once a year to a week-long pilgrimage with his "buds" to see every National League team play in a week... no trite scheduling talent. Later, the tradition morphed into a quest to see every MLB stadium in the country. In addition to the yearly baseball treks, they also practically started the Fantasy Baseball craze. Our phone rang all hours of the day and night during the trading season, and this was before cell phones. More than once passers-by did double takes to see if they were in the presence of somebody important when hearing strange and spirited conversations over a restaurant table. "No way. I'm keeping Nolan Ryan, but I might be willing to let Enos Cabell go for two outfielders. The team could use a couple o' good outfielders, and you're sittin' there with more money than you know what to do with!" More talk of rookies, protected players and trade deadlines had everyone within earshot listening.
Such talk continued and became even more lively when the draft rolled around. The draft was held every fall at a chalet in Gatlinburg, and conveniently for the married men, wives were cordially invited. We bailed on being ground crew by this point, however, and opted instead for hours of mountain craft shopping, as the draft drug on round after round after round.
So, for being a non-athletic girly-girl, I'm surprised how much baseball is in my blood (and my marriage.) By the way, I bought those four "company seats" for Doug when they closed Riverfront in 2002, and they're in our basement today, symbols of the the love of the game.
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