It was a day I was subconsciously waiting my whole life for, but I
didn't realize it until it was happening. The day was August 8, 1996, just 25
days before my son's first birthday. The Texas Rangers, my favorite baseball
team, were in town to play the K.C. Royals. I had always dreamed of one day,
taking my son to his first Rangers game. A father taking his son to a baseball
game is just the American thing to do, and there I was, taking my son "out to
the ball game"; Americas favorite pastime.
I hadn't been to see a Ranger game in years and had been wanting to, for
quite a while. But like many other young married couples, we didn't really seem
to have the time, nor the money. We decided to splurge and buy general
admission tickets. Well it was about three hours before the game, and one hour
before I got through with work. All of a sudden my phone rings, and it was my
mother-in-law "wondering" if I wanted a couple of free view box tickets and a
parking pass, for that nights Ranger game. I couldn't have been more excited,
much less believe my luck.
After I got off work , and picked up the tickets, I raced home to get
my wife and son ready to go. Over the next half hour, I almost regretted
having to bring my son, what with the hassle of getting the diaper bag packed ,
the traffic, and fighting the crowds while pushing a stroller. It was hectic,
but I survived.
Finally we were situated and ready for the game. The singing of the
national anthem was finished and we were waiting for the first pitch. All of a
sudden it hit me, for some reason I couldn't have been prouder. There I was,
holding my son and watching my childhood heroes, sharing his first major league
baseball game. Now I don't know if what I felt was brought on by television
fantasy, or just sheer pride and joy, but I do know that I felt like a million
bucks.
After about ten minutes my son started to get restless, and my wife had
to walk him around to keep him quiet. Every once in a while when she would
bring him back to our seats, he'd sit on my lap and somewhat watch the game,
saying "ba" which was his word for ball. That alone would make me smile, even
if the Rangers were losing.
Attention Getter: “Take me out to the ball game” in the united states Baseball has become America's favorite pastime.
Attention Getter: “Take me out to the ball game” in the united states Baseball has become America's favorite pastime.
We went down by the players to try to get an autograph, and I was right next to Charles tillman! The person next to me got his autograph but I got a high five. When I sat back down I felt the cold plastic from the seat. The game started and the sun started to come out. The warm rays shined on my side of the stadium so it got a little warmer.
satisfaction. It was obvious to me that I had in fact indulged in forms of
baseball game my 3rd grade year . It was a beautiful day, a few clouds covering
Kids’ baseball is a really great American tradition. Fathers can relate to their kids who play Little League because male adults remember the experience as something vital that taught them life-skills and socialization during their youth. Little League is as American as apple pie and now the rest of the world is finally wonderfully acclimated to enjoying everything American including baseball.
My story and experience takes places long time ago, but to me it feels just like yesterday. I remember it so clearly, it was Saturday June 10, 2006. I got tickets for the game from my actual father, but he could not attend the game, thus giving me the tickets to my first Red Sox game at Fenway Park. The Red Sox that day were schedule to play the Texas Rangers in a day-night doubleheader. The minute I got tickets, I went and checked the weather for that day. Rain, yes it was schedule to rain on the day of my first Red Sox game, the game was already reschedule game from a rain-out from a month earlier.
My face was full of excitement when seeing him slowly make his way to the field to watch me. Every time he came I felt like I had to play the best game of my life, I loved it and it was a huge motivation. Whether it was me trying to strike everyone out when I was pitching or trying to hit a homerun every time I was batting, I wanted to show off my skills to my grandpa. My dad was the coach of my baseball team so I would always beg him to let me pitch when I knew that my grandpa was coming. Sometimes before I threw a pitch, I would glance over at the stands to make sure he was watching me, and he always was. His focus was on me the entire game. Every time I looked over at him he was in the same position, hunched over with a serious look on his face almost as if he was a scout that came to see me play. I loved when he could watch me pitch and my favorite part of the game was when it was over and he would tell me “great game!” (even if it wasn’t that
When the notion of baseball comes to mind, a feeling of nostalgia and tradition come to me. Many of my feelings and memories originate from my childhood. I remember a beautiful summer day. My dad and I arrived at the baseball stadium to watch the game. We walked up the concrete walkway inside the stadium. The concrete walls and floors made my surroundings drab and grey. Finally, we made it to entrance into the stadium. I came out of the dark tunnels into the bright sunlight. The first thing to catch my eye was the vivid rush of color. Underneath the fluffy white clouds and their deep blue canvas, I could look down and see players in vibrant red and blue uniforms warming up for the game. The well-watered grass on the field was a brighter green than any other grass I had seen. The outfield seemed to be so perfect. It appeared that each blade had been cut by hand. The edge of the infield, where the dark, watered-down dirt met the intensely green grass was a precise and well-defined contrast. We sat down and I took in my surroundings. There were men walking up and down the stairs selling various concessions. They had peanuts, beer, soda, ice cream, popcorn, and many other tempting treats. The players soon finished their warm-ups and the crowd became frenzied with excitement. The game was about to start.
Throughout the game I am distracted, turning to listen to those around me, watch them, and see thgeir reactions to the game. I come to notice after a while that everyone is interested in the game, try as they might to hide it, and I even catch myself grinning in anticipation and cheering on the home team almost against my will as the magic of baseball takes me up.
The announcer began announcing our team to start the introduction for the game. Since I was the lead-off batter, my name was echoed over the park first. It was at this time that the feeling elevated; the feeling that makes every baseball field so special. As my teammates yelled for me, while I ran to the nearest baseline and faced the crowd, the feeling gave me goose bumps and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. The feeling is so amazing that it will keep me playing baseball for as long as possible because it makes my love for the sport that much more. I can't even begin to explain the complex feeling I get when I walk on a baseball field, but that feeling will always be cherished and hopefully when I pass on my love of baseball to others, they will too understand what that special diamond makes me feel like.
In the beginning, there was football. The official said, Let the stadium lights come on, and they came on. The football players came onto the field, and they saw the light was good. Other teams started to show up and practice on the battle ground, otherwise known as the "playing field." Fans shouted, and cheerleaders went on about their playful acts. Parents, brothers, sisters, and close friends all piled into the stands to see the game of the year. The official stepped out onto the moist grass at Williams Stadium in Plano, Texas. The time was seven o'clock p.m. on a Thursday night. He paused for a moment, looked at his stopwatch, and blew his whistle. Gigantic muscular men came from out of nowhere as the fans began to cheer, waving various flags, and clanging cow bells. The bells sounded like a wind chime in an April shower, all different sounds at different times.
one of the greatest feelings ever. Additionally, it makes me feel like I have actually
After getting dressed, I went downstairs and the wait began. I thought I was going to be
It was a week before Valentines Day in 1987. I was nine years old and