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I
saw my first baseball game with my dad when I was only 3 years old.
I’m told that most people don’t remember things at that early an
age. I guess I’m weird. I remember my dad putting me on his
shoulders and carrying me into the Los Angeles Coliseum to see the
Dodgers play. I remember sitting a long way from home plate, and I
remember a huge screen in the outfield. Years later (actually it was
just a few years ago) I saw some film footage showing a game in LA
that pointed out the big screen in the outfield. I guess I
remembered more than you thought I could!
At
any rate, my dad had no idea of what he set in motion on that
fateful night. I didn’t just enjoy being with my dad. I didn’t
just enjoy going to a baseball game. I totally loved it. And I loved
everything about it. I loved the sights, the sounds and the smells.
My dad pointed out to me that no matter how sophisticated TV gets
(and it’s come a long way in those 40 years), watching the game at
home will never be as good as watching it live at the ballpark. My
dad was wrong about a few things in life, but he was not wrong about
that! There is nothing better than being in the stadium on game day,
period! So, if you think I’m nuts for wasting time and money going
to baseball games, take it up with my dad when you get to heaven. He
made me like this.
As
a boy, my dad took my brother and me to dozens of games in Los
Angeles and Anaheim. He also took us to a lot of minor league games
in San Diego (they did not get a major league team until years after
we had left the area).
Just
before I entered junior high, my family moved to the San Francisco
Bay area. It was there that I began to craft my lifelong baseball
strategy. If you ever saw the TV show the "Wonder Years"
or the movie "Sandlot," that should give you a good mental
picture of my childhood. I was a sports fanatic, a sports
junkie...but at least in those early days, baseball was my first
love.
My
dad began to take my brother and me to games in San Francisco and in
Oakland. I took mental notes of how we got there, how we got tickets
and anything else that I thought would be important to my future
quest.
The
late ’60s were a tough time in this country, and the Bay area
probably was not the safest place in America to grow up. I did not
let that deter me. I came up with a brilliant idea one lazy
afternoon. I made my brother go into the neighborhood alleys with me
and pick up every pop bottle we could find. If you were industrious
enough back then, you could find a lot of them. I even had the
brainstorm of going door-to-door and asking people if they’d like
to give up any of their pop bottles. Believe it or not, sometimes
people would just give them to us.
Then
it was time to pop the question. But, there was no way in the world
that my parents were going to go for it, especially my mom. I did
not let that deter me. One night at dinner, there was a lull in the
conversation. I figured that God had provided me with a
once-in-a-lifetime (have I mentioned that my wife hates that phrase)
opportunity. I had carefully rehearsed what I was going to say for
days, and beating around the bush was not going to help...so I just
spit it out.
I
asked my folks if I could take my brother (Ken) to a game in San
Francisco on Saturday. Keep in mind that I was still a few years
away from a driver’s license. My mother thought that it was a
ridiculous idea and wondered how in the world I could get us there
and back.
(To top of second
column in this section)
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Never
underestimate the power of a kid who loves baseball! I was light
years ahead of them! I was country before country was cool! I was
baseball tonight before Chris Bermann was even dreaming up
SportsCenter! Earlier I mentioned how I took mental notes at every
game I ever attended. One night when we were walking from the
parking lot to the stadium, I saw a line of buses approaching the
stadium. It was something like the San Jose Bee-Line bus lines.
There was an ad on the bus advertising bus trips from the San Jose
area to and from Giants and A’s games. I knew it was a sign from
God. I also noticed that one of the pick-up points was near my
neighborhood in beautiful Sunnyvale, Calif.
Back
to the dinner table...I simply explained to my folks that Ken and I
would take the bus. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. For $3
you got a round-trip bus ticket and a seat in the bleachers...is
that incredible or what? You can hardly get a hot dog at the Lincoln
Art and Balloon Fest for $3 nowadays.
My
mom was flabbergasted...and when my dad looked up from his dinner
plate and matter-of-factly said, just take good care of your
brother, I knew that Ken and I were on our way to Candlestick by
ourselves! What could my mother say...she protested vehemently...in
fact, she’s played the rest of our lives under protest! My dad
(back in those days, men wore the pants) had spoken. And what a
pronouncement it was.
That
Saturday my brother and I went to San Francisco by ourselves for the
very first time. We had the time of our lives. I don’t remember
much about the game that day, which is unusual for me. Even though I’ve
seen a few games in my life, I can usually remember something about
every one of them. This day was different. It was special. My
brother and I were unleashed on the world. We would never be the
same.
I
don’t know at what age a boy becomes a man. I don’t know if
there’s an event or a ritual that you must go through to reach or
attain manhood. All I know is that on that day, I felt like a man!
Since
that day, I’ve been on a quest to go to different stadiums around
the country. Because when I visit a new ballpark, in some real way I
recapture the feeling I had that fateful day in the city back in
1968.
This
trip down memory lane doesn’t do much to tell you about my most
recent baseball trip to the East Coast, and for that I apologize.
But I felt like you needed to know my baseball pilgrimage in order
to appreciate my writing for the Lincoln Daily News.
In
my next piece I will report on my recent trip to New York’s Shea
Stadium and Yankee Stadium. I will also report on my trip to Boston’s
Fenway Park. Many of you wouldn’t think of wasting your money on
such a frivolous pursuit. For me, baseball has helped see the
country and the world.
Thanks,
Dad, for passing on to me the keys to the baseball kingdom. You
would have been excited to know that you now have a grandson to
initiate to the baseball world. I know you will find a way to show
him the magic that you gave to me.
[Jeff
Mayfield]
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