Ah, winter is finally over; it's official, 'The boys of summer are back! The baseball season began anew this past week and now the mesmerizing journey unfolds from the first spring bud-bloom until the autumn colored leaves fall. Recently, a grandchild inquired of me , why is the Cardinals' baseball season so important to me. I suppose the simple and direct answer is, Cardinals' baseball is one of few staples that endured from my youth into my senior years; an unimpeachable certainty.
I offer the following personal random recalls for consideration:
A ten years old boy embraces endless summer days playing sandlot baseball
Smells of dirt, freshly mowed grass and leather baseball gloves
Awaiting the bread truck driver to show up at the local grocery store where he'd pass out baseball cards to excited kids
Anticipating my father coming home from work so I could impress him with a 'new' pitch
Dressed in my little league (all wool) baseball uniform on a St. Louis July day as I peddled my bike to the Park
Leaning over home plate determined not to allow the 'older' pitcher's fast ball to intimidate me
Shielding my eyes from a bright summer sun against a cloudless 'high-sky'
Walking onto the pitcher's mound saddled with that incredible 'in-charge' moment
Giving no thought to a 'pitch-count' as the game entered the eleventh inning
Negotiating two bus transfers and a street car ride with friends as we headed to Sportsman Park with our 'Knothole Passes' to watch
a St. Louis Cardinals or Browns game
Indeed, the Boys of Summer are back and it will stir the emotions of the little boy inside as I am awakened to a flood of precious memories. Baseball carries the sounds of my life's experiences. I watched the Cardinals' pre-game festivities yesterday. I saw a tribute to my childhood idol, Stan 'The Man' Musial. I saw other St. Louis Hall-of-Fame greats whom I cheered throughout my life.
The faces in the game change but the game stays constant with it's slowly unfolding meticulous nuances and cadence.
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