A Love Affair Remembered

A beautiful Tuesday evening. Sundown in the background, red skies up above. It’s been nearly twenty years since these eyes laid sight on these surroundings. Yet, everything feels so familiar, the twisting concrete, the hillside scenery, the traffic cops conducting a harmonious symphony of dancing automobiles. I know this place. It feels likes just yesterday I was trying to remember the outlines of the parking lot, trying to soak in the moments. Yesterday it was when I was eager to be here, ready for an outing which I always held dear to my heart. Only this time I’m a bit taller, a bit wiser,and have more money. This time it is I the one admonishing;”Stay close to me, watch the cars… got your jacket?” This time I am the parent, I hold the tickets. This time I am taking my kid to the ballgame.

Last time I came, the game was so pure to me. I knew nothing of scandals, wasnt old enough to understand stats. Last time all I wanted was to catch a foul ball, see a double play. All I wanted was for the Dodgers to win. Simple as that. When the game ended, I wanted the numbers under the “R” on the scoreboard to be higher next to the word Dodgers than next to the visiting teams name. Last time I was here there was no interleague play, no Florida, Arizona, Colorado or Tampa Bay team. Pitchers pitched entire games and players spent entire careers with the same team. Everybody on the team you could name and they felt like family. They were in our households all summer. On the radio or on TV, this was before ESPN. There were no highlights, only tales told from friends that attended games you didn’t. Only news recaps on the local stations. Baseball cards were the currency of playgrounds. Hopes were high every year. And every year was exciting whether we won the championship or not. Baseball was a lifestyle not a sport. Baseball was my passion. I played it, pretended to be Steve Sax. Turning double plays. Jumping over the onsliding opponent but still keeping his wits about him to gun the runner down at first. Baseball… was a dream.

Something’s to be said for the nineties. In my eyes at least baseball cheated on me. Money hungry players showed no loyalty to cities, fans or teams. Players went on strike. How could they? I would kill to play baseball for a living. The companies were buying teams up like hostile takeovers. Corporate names found a home on ballparks. I used to be able to name every single ballpark in the majors. Now they have changed so much I lose track. No more farm systems, no more small ball, no more pitching, no more defense. Baseball was a cheap thrills, two-timing excuse for a sport. The innocence was lost. The purity defamed. The strikes, steroids and conglomorates chewed up my beloved and spat her out like remains of chewing tobacco. Left to dry up and be stepped on. Lying on the dugout floor. Sad times were these and my attention turned to another sport. I left baseball behind me, ashamed of it. Never looked back. Denying my once love for it.

This Tuesday evening she came back to me. Asked me for forgiveness, threw her arms.got on her knees, begged and said “I Miss You”. Today I felt the tingling sensation. I sat down for three hours and explained what the R the H and the E meant. Told of the reasoning behind an intentional walk. Same things I inquired ’bout some 24 years ago. I saw things I’d thought long repressed. Nostalgic, warming, comforting. The blue foam finger waving in the air. The rally towels whisking in the night breeze. The excitement of jumpin out my seat to do the wave. The laughter of seeing it die. The catching of cracker jacks, afraid to drop them and look like a fool. My offspring cheering as hard as I am, not knowing the situation. But her daddy is cheering so she follows suit. Maybe the game is returning to the event it used to be. Maybe it’s cause I’m at a turning point in my life. Maybe it’s cause I’m reliving my youth through my young ones. Or maybe .. and this is what i want to believe… maybe, just maybe …

….. The innocence of my beloved has returned
And maybe I can love her again.
It’s time for baseball again and this time I won’t let it go.