Today is Opening Day. If I have to tell you Opening Day of what- you may not understand this diary.
But- if you know Opening Day- and like me consider it a holiday, you will.
I love baseball. Particularly Yankee baseball. And it's all my fathers fault.He took me to my first game when I was 6 years old. In the bleachers, when they were benches and tickets were only a couple of bucks.
It was 1962-and my Dad brought his daughter. My older brother had gone- but he had no interest in watching sports of any kind. He was a pretty good athlete in his own right. He didn't like baseball.
So my Dad took me to ballgames.
I had him all to myself. He worked 2 jobs to support us. Whenever he could he spent one on one time with his kids. It wasn't often, but it was special.
He was a HUGE Yankee fan-he could tell you anything you wanted to know about Yankee baseball. Where Mantle almost hit the ball out of the stadium. World Series stats. Why Gehrig was a better ballplayer than Ruth. How Duren used to throw the ball over the catchers head during warm-up to make the batters nervous. That Maris broke Ruth's record- and that asterisk was unfair. All kinds of stuff.
I still remember how excited I was. We took the train into the city and the subway to the Stadium. All those people-the sights and sounds of the vendors. The entrance, like some grand cathedral. And the greenest grass I had ever seen.
We would do that every couple of years. Now think about the 60's- weren't a lot of girls that were sports fans- at least not openly. But me and my Dad we'd put on our caps and I'd drag along my glove. Off we'd go- and I learned about baseball and life. I never did catch that baseball. But I learned about balls and strikes, the suicide squeeze and putting team first.
I learned that hard work can payoff- that trying your best was what was important. That failing shouldn't keep you from trying. After all, if you hit .300 you failed 70%of the time.
After high school- I joined the Army. The only time we could get to a ballgame was when I was on leave and could get home. But we always talked baseball- even when we couldn't talk about any thing else. When I got married- My Dad, my husband and I would go.
After my folks moved to TX- when hubby and I retired- we went to see a ballgame in Arlington. I got the tickets and we went to see the Yankees. And lo and behold- Hubby caught a foul ball. My Dad turned to me and said" All those times you brought your glove.."
Not long after that- my Dad found out he had cancer. There weren't any more trips to the ballpark. But the Yankees made it back to the World Series after a 16 year absence. We watched the games on TV. Hollered at the Umps, And jumped up when they won and hugged each other. Me and my Dad.
Today is Opening Day. Dad's and kids are going to the ballpark.
It's the greenest grass they'll ever see.
8:59 AM PT: As I have been reminded - Dads and Moms are taking their kids to the ballpark today. What a wonderful thing that is