With a big hat tip (for the tip) to the great blog Pitchers Hit Eighth, I present to you a super fan video that just makes every non-Cardinal fan jealous. I was at game 7 in 2002 with my wife Cheryl when we experienced this, but that was ten years ago. We are ready to experience this again.
Showing posts with label Cardinals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cardinals. Show all posts
May 2, 2012
October 13, 2010
There are many reasons to love baseball
Every day is kind of like Christmas for me lately. Seems like every time I check my email, there's another story from a baseball fan who wants to answer my question "Why do you love baseball?"
The following post is from Matt Kelsey, who got wind of this blog from his I-70 Baseball colleague Bill Ivie and wanted to take part in the project as well. I'm glad he did....
I love baseball because my dad and my mom took me to games, back in the days when the Royals played respectable ball and you could take a family of four to a big-league ballpark for less than twenty-five bucks - parking and food included.
I love baseball because after the games, my brother and I would go stand around next to the visiting team bus and the home team parking lot, asking for autographs. More players said no than yes, but the ones who said yes - regardless of how they performed on the field - became our favorites.
I love baseball because of my grandmother. A first-generation American, she was born and raised in the small central Missouri town of Loose Creek, and grew up in the days of Ruth and Gehrig. She became a fan of the Kansas City Royals out of spite, for the exact same reason she voted Republican: her husband, the jovial town barber, told her she ought vote Democrat and root for the St. Louis Cardinals. My grandmother did the opposite. Our family friend Ralph Lynch took my grandmother to a playoff game in 1985, and bought her a Royals jacket. The jacket and a commemorative Dwight Eisenhower plate were her prized possessions. She wore that jacket every spring and fall until the day she died.
I love baseball because of that jacket.
I love baseball because of Ralph Lynch. Ralph was the kind of guy who would throw away caps when they became too worn out. Once, when he was over at our house, shucking corn and drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon out of the can with my father, he decided his old Royals hat was too worn out and chucked it in a garbage barrel. I dug that sucker out of the trash and wore it the rest of my childhood.
I love baseball because of Bret Saberhagen. He was the kid pitcher on the Royals in 1985, and he went on to win a Cy Young Award and the World Series MVP. He was my favorite player, and still is, even though he sprayed bleach on reporters while playing for the Mets and wore his hair in a ridiculous perm.
I love baseball because of Game 7 of the 1985 World Series. A Cardinals fan tried to tell me recently that the Royals would have lost the series if Don Denkinger, the guy who blew a call in Game 6, hadn't been behind the plate for Game 7. The Royals won Game 7 by a score of 11-0. Cardinals fans are delusional if they think a different umpire would have changed the outcome of Saberhagen's complete-game shutout or the Royals' offensive explosion. But I digress...
I love baseball because I was six years old during the 1985 World Series. My family watched the game from our living room, in the house where my parents still live. Ralph Lynch was there, too. My brother and I watched from the living room carpet, laid out on our stomachs, our heads cradled in our hands. When Darryl Motley caught the ball for the final out and Saberhagen leaped into George Brett's arms, we pounded on the carpet and screamed until our fists were sore and our throats were raw.
I love baseball because I love hating the Cardinals, and I love hating the Yankees.
I love baseball because of George Brett, the greatest player I ever saw. Years after he retired I witnessed him at an exhibition game. He was joking around with the crowd, signing a few autographs, and then he took batting practice and his expression became deadly serious. He whacked the ball all over the park, with that wonderfully ridiculous back-to-the-pitcher stance of his. I'll bet money George Brett could still hit .275 in the big leagues.
I love baseball because of birthday money. On my birthday, I would get $15 from my parents to spend anyway I liked, and my brother would get $10. On his birthday, we'd reverse it. One year on my birthday, I blew my entire wad on baseball cards. My brother had always had more cards than me, and it was sort of a sore subject. That night I came home and opened all my cards (probably 30 packs - they were a lot cheaper back then), and shoved all the gum in my mouth. Then, with a mouth full of sugary sweetness, I took my cards and stacked them up in a skyscraper. My brother stacked his cards up too. My stack, for once, was taller.
I love baseball because of the gum. My brother's friend once built a small box out of baseball-card gum and stored his valuables inside, because he swore the gum was fireproof.
I love baseball because of Buck O'Neil.
I love baseball because there's an old family rumor, largely propagated by my brother, that we're distantly related to Mickey Mantle.
I love baseball because my wife lets me teach her about the game, and she's come to love it, too, in a way only a perfect wife can, the kind of wife who doesn't just suffer her husband's obsessions, but shares in them.
I love baseball because it's the only game that matters. It's the only game I'll ever truly love. It's a game that belongs to me in the same way it belongs to all fans, and I belong to it as well.
Submitted by
Matt Kelsey
Content Director
I-70 Baseball
Be sure to check out Matt's blog:
The Henry Wiggen Blog
By the way Matt, I too love baseball because of Buck O'Neil
The following post is from Matt Kelsey, who got wind of this blog from his I-70 Baseball colleague Bill Ivie and wanted to take part in the project as well. I'm glad he did....
I love baseball because my dad and my mom took me to games, back in the days when the Royals played respectable ball and you could take a family of four to a big-league ballpark for less than twenty-five bucks - parking and food included.
I love baseball because after the games, my brother and I would go stand around next to the visiting team bus and the home team parking lot, asking for autographs. More players said no than yes, but the ones who said yes - regardless of how they performed on the field - became our favorites.
I love baseball because of my grandmother. A first-generation American, she was born and raised in the small central Missouri town of Loose Creek, and grew up in the days of Ruth and Gehrig. She became a fan of the Kansas City Royals out of spite, for the exact same reason she voted Republican: her husband, the jovial town barber, told her she ought vote Democrat and root for the St. Louis Cardinals. My grandmother did the opposite. Our family friend Ralph Lynch took my grandmother to a playoff game in 1985, and bought her a Royals jacket. The jacket and a commemorative Dwight Eisenhower plate were her prized possessions. She wore that jacket every spring and fall until the day she died.
I love baseball because of that jacket.
I love baseball because of Ralph Lynch. Ralph was the kind of guy who would throw away caps when they became too worn out. Once, when he was over at our house, shucking corn and drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon out of the can with my father, he decided his old Royals hat was too worn out and chucked it in a garbage barrel. I dug that sucker out of the trash and wore it the rest of my childhood.
I love baseball because of Bret Saberhagen. He was the kid pitcher on the Royals in 1985, and he went on to win a Cy Young Award and the World Series MVP. He was my favorite player, and still is, even though he sprayed bleach on reporters while playing for the Mets and wore his hair in a ridiculous perm.
I love baseball because of Game 7 of the 1985 World Series. A Cardinals fan tried to tell me recently that the Royals would have lost the series if Don Denkinger, the guy who blew a call in Game 6, hadn't been behind the plate for Game 7. The Royals won Game 7 by a score of 11-0. Cardinals fans are delusional if they think a different umpire would have changed the outcome of Saberhagen's complete-game shutout or the Royals' offensive explosion. But I digress...
I love baseball because I was six years old during the 1985 World Series. My family watched the game from our living room, in the house where my parents still live. Ralph Lynch was there, too. My brother and I watched from the living room carpet, laid out on our stomachs, our heads cradled in our hands. When Darryl Motley caught the ball for the final out and Saberhagen leaped into George Brett's arms, we pounded on the carpet and screamed until our fists were sore and our throats were raw.
I love baseball because I love hating the Cardinals, and I love hating the Yankees.
I love baseball because of George Brett, the greatest player I ever saw. Years after he retired I witnessed him at an exhibition game. He was joking around with the crowd, signing a few autographs, and then he took batting practice and his expression became deadly serious. He whacked the ball all over the park, with that wonderfully ridiculous back-to-the-pitcher stance of his. I'll bet money George Brett could still hit .275 in the big leagues.
I love baseball because of birthday money. On my birthday, I would get $15 from my parents to spend anyway I liked, and my brother would get $10. On his birthday, we'd reverse it. One year on my birthday, I blew my entire wad on baseball cards. My brother had always had more cards than me, and it was sort of a sore subject. That night I came home and opened all my cards (probably 30 packs - they were a lot cheaper back then), and shoved all the gum in my mouth. Then, with a mouth full of sugary sweetness, I took my cards and stacked them up in a skyscraper. My brother stacked his cards up too. My stack, for once, was taller.
I love baseball because of the gum. My brother's friend once built a small box out of baseball-card gum and stored his valuables inside, because he swore the gum was fireproof.
I love baseball because of Buck O'Neil.
I love baseball because there's an old family rumor, largely propagated by my brother, that we're distantly related to Mickey Mantle.
I love baseball because my wife lets me teach her about the game, and she's come to love it, too, in a way only a perfect wife can, the kind of wife who doesn't just suffer her husband's obsessions, but shares in them.
I love baseball because it's the only game that matters. It's the only game I'll ever truly love. It's a game that belongs to me in the same way it belongs to all fans, and I belong to it as well.
Submitted by
Matt Kelsey
Content Director
I-70 Baseball
Be sure to check out Matt's blog:
The Henry Wiggen Blog
By the way Matt, I too love baseball because of Buck O'Neil
Labels:
Babe Ruth,
Bill Ivie,
Bret Saberhagen,
Buck O'Neil,
Cardinals,
Darryl Motely,
Don Denkinger,
George Brett,
i70baseball,
Lou Gehrig,
Matt Kelsey,
Mickey Mantle,
Ralph Lynch,
Royals
October 8, 2010
Baseball is always with us
The latest entry to the question Why do you love baseball? comes to us from a transplanted Cardinals fan.
It's simple, really. Baseball has always been with me, everywhere I go.
A little history: I come from a family of fans. My mom made me a fan, too. Born in 1937, she was just old enough to know who Jackie Robinson was when he made his major league debut ten years later and why he was so important.
She remembers the family sitting around the radio (Cardinal games were broadcast on KMOX then; the mighty St. Louis station could be heard all the way to Nebraska on clear nights), listening to the announcer call the Brooklyn Dodgers-Cardinals games. She remembers; as she grew up, the sense of pride that she felt in Robinson's accomplishments, the way he held himself, and the way he performed on the field.
She wept when he died. That, I remember vividly.
My own love affair with baseball has been a slow-burning one. As a kid growing up in St. Louis; listening to baseball or thinking about it, was just something you did: throw some catch in the backyard, play pick-up games in the park down the street, do homework while listening to Jack Buck call Cardinals games on the radio ("And that's a winner!").
My favorite player was Lou Brock; I used to hold my breath, wondering if he would steal home this time or catch that line drive down the line. My fondest memory; in fact, is the day he WAVED TO ME because I kept screaming his name from the bleachers during warm-ups. I don't remember who won that day, but man... Lou Brock waved to me! How ya like me NOW??
Sure, St. Louis had the football Cardinals (at least temporarily) and the NBA's Hawks (at least temporarily) and they still have the NHL's Blues, but none of them had a hold on our city the way the Redbirds did. Still don't. In fact, if you referred to "Redbirds" in the 1970s and 1980s, it was pretty much understood that you were talking about the baseball team. You didn't have to clarify.
My mom went to the World Series in 1967 and 1968 and her favorite player was Bob Gibson... that is until Willie McGee showed up and then she "adopted" him.
Another story: I was in Air Force basic training in 1982, the year the Redbirds played the Brewers in the World Series. After the Cardinals beat the Brewers in seven games, my terminally dyspeptic drill instructor called me into his office and yelled at me because he'd bet on the Brewers and it was somehow my fault that they'd lost. All I could do was apologize for my team winning the Series. Go figure.
Even now, having lived in Los Angeles for almost thirty years, I'm still a Cardinals fan. I'm also a fan of the Angels for sure, but man, the Cardinals? That's where it's at.
Submitted by
Terry Dickerson
Redondo Beach, CA
The idea that baseball has always been with Terry reminds me of a James Taylor song for some reason...
I close my eyes at night
Wondering where would I be without you in my life
Everything I did was just a bore
Everywhere I went it seems I'd been there before
But you brighten up for me all of my days
With a love so sweet in so many ways
I want to stop and thank you baseball
I just want to stop and thank you baby (woah, yeah)
How sweet it is to be loved by you (it's just like sugar sometimes)
How sweet it is to be loved by you
I guess his post reminds me of that song because baseball is game that when you love, it actually loves you back. Thanks Terry. That song is going to be in my head all day now.
It's simple, really. Baseball has always been with me, everywhere I go.
A little history: I come from a family of fans. My mom made me a fan, too. Born in 1937, she was just old enough to know who Jackie Robinson was when he made his major league debut ten years later and why he was so important.
She remembers the family sitting around the radio (Cardinal games were broadcast on KMOX then; the mighty St. Louis station could be heard all the way to Nebraska on clear nights), listening to the announcer call the Brooklyn Dodgers-Cardinals games. She remembers; as she grew up, the sense of pride that she felt in Robinson's accomplishments, the way he held himself, and the way he performed on the field.
She wept when he died. That, I remember vividly.
My own love affair with baseball has been a slow-burning one. As a kid growing up in St. Louis; listening to baseball or thinking about it, was just something you did: throw some catch in the backyard, play pick-up games in the park down the street, do homework while listening to Jack Buck call Cardinals games on the radio ("And that's a winner!").
My favorite player was Lou Brock; I used to hold my breath, wondering if he would steal home this time or catch that line drive down the line. My fondest memory; in fact, is the day he WAVED TO ME because I kept screaming his name from the bleachers during warm-ups. I don't remember who won that day, but man... Lou Brock waved to me! How ya like me NOW??
Sure, St. Louis had the football Cardinals (at least temporarily) and the NBA's Hawks (at least temporarily) and they still have the NHL's Blues, but none of them had a hold on our city the way the Redbirds did. Still don't. In fact, if you referred to "Redbirds" in the 1970s and 1980s, it was pretty much understood that you were talking about the baseball team. You didn't have to clarify.
My mom went to the World Series in 1967 and 1968 and her favorite player was Bob Gibson... that is until Willie McGee showed up and then she "adopted" him.
Another story: I was in Air Force basic training in 1982, the year the Redbirds played the Brewers in the World Series. After the Cardinals beat the Brewers in seven games, my terminally dyspeptic drill instructor called me into his office and yelled at me because he'd bet on the Brewers and it was somehow my fault that they'd lost. All I could do was apologize for my team winning the Series. Go figure.
Even now, having lived in Los Angeles for almost thirty years, I'm still a Cardinals fan. I'm also a fan of the Angels for sure, but man, the Cardinals? That's where it's at.
Submitted by
Terry Dickerson
Redondo Beach, CA
The idea that baseball has always been with Terry reminds me of a James Taylor song for some reason...
I close my eyes at night
Wondering where would I be without you in my life
Everything I did was just a bore
Everywhere I went it seems I'd been there before
But you brighten up for me all of my days
With a love so sweet in so many ways
I want to stop and thank you baseball
I just want to stop and thank you baby (woah, yeah)
How sweet it is to be loved by you (it's just like sugar sometimes)
How sweet it is to be loved by you
I guess his post reminds me of that song because baseball is game that when you love, it actually loves you back. Thanks Terry. That song is going to be in my head all day now.
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