I watched the St. Louis baseball Cardinals' opening day ceremonies yesterday. I have followed the Redbirds since 1946, when as a seven year old boy, my dad began teaching me the game. I cannot begin to recall the number of games I've attended and I will see one this week. Of course, I have had my favorite players each season but every time I see the 'Birds-On-The-Bat,' I cannot help but remember that first team I fell in love with: Stan Musial, Red Schoendienst, Marty Marion, Whitey Kurowski, Harry Walker, Terry Moore, Enos Slaughter, Del Rice, Joe Garagiola and pitchers like Harry Brecheen and Howie Pollet.
In the 1940's and early 1950's baseball fans went to the ball park very early because the gates opened for batting practice and 'yes' the starters took a pre-game infield practice. Those baseball staples have long disappeared as has the doubleheader. Today's players apparently are simply too valuable or fragile to embrace such wear and tear.
The Cardinals' home was at Grand Avenue and Dodier Street in North St. Louis back in those days. As a teen, I would ride the East St. Louis city bus crossing the Mississippi River on the Eads Bridge into St. Louis where I'd take a St. Louis city bus to Grand Avenue and transfer onto a North bound street car that dropped me off near the right field pavilion. When the Cards were playing on the road, I would sometimes take the same route to watch the Browns play at the same Sportsman's Park. I especially made that effort when Ted Williams was in town with his Red Sox or Joe DiMaggio and Yogie Berra's Yanks invaded.
As the National Anthem was being played yesterday, I did what I did every time I attended a game with my father. I closed my eyes and thanked God for my dad and asked that the moment would never end. Of course, I knew those days would end, however the game (baseball) continues to allow me all those precious memories.
Play ball! There's a father and son rooting for the Redbirds today.
No comments:
Post a Comment