Ah, yes, our favorite game – baseball. We have so many memories about baseball going back decades. No game is the same. Major League Baseball is fine and we had a great run with the Detroit Tigers in 1967 and 1968 during our years living in Michigan. Fabulous. A year or so later, we had occasion to be in St. Louis, got to see a Cardinals game, and lost our voice – an added bonus for DDH.
We learned almost everything we know about baseball from our dad, who knew EVERYTHING about the game. We’ll never forget the night the Pacific Coast League LA Angels played something like 20 innings, maybe more. It was way past bedtime, but we were allowed to stay up. Surely the game will end THIS inning! It was past midnight before somebody finally won, we forget which team.
This was the game we learned about intentional walks. Very difficult concept. Why would you deliberately let a guy walk? It was a bases-loading walk. But the inning-ending double play convinced us. Dad patiently explained that the fielders could throw a hit ball to any base – no confusing decisions to make, no trapping a runner between two bases.
Our most recent favorite pro-ball team was the Salem-Keizer Volcanoes. They changed radio stations and announcers, so we can’t listen any more. But in the past, they provided some very exciting nights – both at the ball field and at home listening to the radio.
The announcer gave us some great education about even more nuances about the game. During his interviews of their fabulous managers, both of whom regularly produced championship teams, we learned about “small ball” among other things. Essentially, that meant “just get on base consistently and you will always win.” Don’t let the other guys do that, of course.
Baseball is great for listening to on the radio, if you can’t get to the ballpark. You can take your portable outside and listen while working in the garden. Or washing the car. Or working on that woodworking project. Or fixing the tranny on your old jalopy. Or repairing the lawn mower.
There’s just nothing like sitting out on the porch with a can of beer or glass of iced tea in your hand, the smell of fresh-cut grass wafting over you and the sounds of baseball in the air, sometimes punctuated by the crackling of summer lightening. Ahhhh! This is the life!