After decades reading and listening to the local news report the rugby scores, the overs from the cricket matches, the results from the rounds of soccer matches, and the winnings of the local tennis stars, This summer I rediscovered Baseball.

A  Born  Again  Baseball  Fan

The Ink Zone 

 

       Now before you think I am here to brag about the Diamondbacks and a World Series win in Arizona, permit me please a moment of reflection and personal history.

 

      As a  young lad, I played a little ball. Big for my age in grade school, I hit and threw well despite no coaching beyond the sand lot. We had fun, the local kids sometimes playing alone with a ball and a back stop, and other times keeping score with make shift teams on real fields of grass and bases. It is an interesting game where the ball does not do the scoring, people do.

 

      I do not remember well the first baseball game dad took me to, but it was the Washington Senators with Eddy Yost, Mickey Vernon and others that have since been lost from my recall. They played the Yankees and as I remember, they won more than they lost that year. The stadium was old, as I dredge my memories, I-beam steel stands. Lots of shouting, cheers, running, and hits. My memories stop here in fond space of good times without specifics to report.

 

     After dad moved our family to California, we went to old Seals Stadium to see the Giants, Willy, Orlando, Juan, and Felipe, bring the big leagues to the west coast. A great way to grow up during the time silicon began to take over the valley south of San Francisco. Cold nights in the bleachers where fog penetrated everything except the true fans.

 

     My collage and beyond years filled up with romance, marriage, a family, a professional life, and travel to regions distant from US sports teams. I followed my favorites only in the fine print part of the newspapers and in the process, lost real contact with the players, magic, and strategies of the game.

 

      As our two daughters grew up, we did go to a few games at Candlestick park, and cheered from the home team side the then Triple A Spokane Indians. Fun family outings with more memories and meaning than any of us knew then.

 

       Well, we now live in Arizona, about 35 minutes on the freeway from the new Bank One Ballpark housing the young baseball franchise. Also in Arizona is a Wayne Gretski owned NHL hockey team, a transplanted football team, exceptional basketball at both college and professional level, and fairways of gold courses behind every hill and in every valley. Sports are in Arizona.

 

     This year, our youngest daughter invited me to go to a baseball game. Apparently her memory of bleachers and baseball are fond ones, - something to do with Dad. In July, with the roof closed, we go to BOB (some say it should be named TOM—Taxpayers Obligated Money) to see Arizona play the Houston Astros. Darned if we didn’t have fun and by the end of the month we had in one way or another taken the entire family to see the Diamondbacks. We saw the Cubs and Sammy, Bonds and the Giants, Gwen with San Diego, and others. We sat with our new hats and team shirts sipping beer  while watching good baseball. Some time in August, we each had our favorite players, flapped back and forth about batting averages, ERA’s, managing styles and our hopes they would continue to play well. With hook being set, we were getting into baseball after 20 years of abstinence.

 

      So how does one get on the season ticket listing and where is the best place to sit we asked. In the process of tracking down the answers, we discovered quite by accident that by committing before the season is over, we could have seats to the play offs through the world series. If the team did not make it that far, this down payment can be applied to the full or half season tickets for next year.  Wow, a real win—win situation.

 

They had me!

 

      By the end of August these payoff tickets arrived and the entire family is following the team on radio, TV and more games in the stands.. Darn, these guys did reasonably well—waited to the last two games to clinch the division, but clinch they did. By now our wardrobe increased to wearing play off gear, pins, and things Diamondbacks. The pile of tickets took on a real value. We for the first time in all our lives we were going to see baseball first hand in the play offs.

 

      The opening game of the divisional play offs, more people than normal at the park enjoyed the win. Neither this or second game were a sell out. Sports were in Arizona, but Arizona was not into sports, at lease not in early October.

 

       Now the opening day of the National league series championship—the first sell out since opening day—the noise and excitement moved up the decibels to piercing levels. The fans now were a active part of the game. Arizona began to get into sports. Winning the NLCS on the road was good for the team as they then had the time to prepare for the World Series.

 

      Game one and two of the World Series, full of patriotism, song, and good baseball, moved Arizona the state and the team up the ladder of respect and enthusiasm. People who never had attended a game, knew Counsell’s get on base hustle, Shilling’s fast ball speed, Womack's base running talent, Johnson ‘s fierce scowl, Gonzo’s more home runs in a year than Willy Mays, and something about all 25 guys on the team.

 

      Games 3, 4, and 5, well-played close games, they lost all on what the local fans then felt were errors in judgment. The fans, fanatic fans now, were now expert managers, knew what should have been done, and said so. The venue returned to Arizona.

 

      I watched the last two games from pubs in Boston while Sally and Rhonda shouted themselves horse form the stands. A B-2 bomber, fireworks and a vocal respectful crowd that got into the game set the field as the stage for real baseball. A series that went the distance and made it fun to be a fan.  Ups, downs, masterful pitching, home runs, and a game winning bloop single, it had it all. This team believed in them selves and made believers of a whole lot of people. A respectful nice team who set aside the egos of sports, set good examples for young and old alike, and show that doing your best is the only way to live.

 

      My family and I, yes the born again baseball fan, have new special memories from the times when a father took his son to a game, a mom and dad took their daughters to games, and now a daughter taking her family back to the park. Next year I will take our grandson to some games. Thanks baseball for all the past and future memories.

 

 

 

Keep  Arizona in the National League where even the pitchers play baseball—Go Diamondbacks