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  1. +

    My son's 1st game

    Date Submitted: October 2, 2010

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    My son was a couple months shy of his 3rd birthday when I took him to his 1st Major League Game. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would behave so well!
    We saw the Pittsburgh Pirates lose but they won a NEW FAN. My favorite picture of that day is where my son is giving me love for taking him to his 1st Pirate game.
    My son was a couple months shy of his 3rd birthday when I took him to his 1st Major League ...

    — Mia Carey  

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    A Baseball Memory

    Date Submitted: October 1, 2010

    Like many sons, one of the few common interest I shared with my father was baseball (a la Field of Dreams). In 1974 my older sister moved to Houston. On a family visit, he and I went to the Astrodome to see the Astros play the Atlanta Braves and Hank Aaron, one of my favorite all time players. He had just broken Babe's record. I was 13 years old and nuts over baseball. Our seats were down the right field line in front of the home bullpen. During the game, Astro's third baseman Doug Radar lifted a towering foul ball. It quickly became apparent that the ball was going our way and everyone around us rose to their feet in anticipation. As it came closer I froze, but my father calmly reached up and made a bare-hand grab just as the man sitting behind us tried to make the catch. It was a thrill for me. To make it even better, an usher took my name and address and I received an "honorary" Houston Astros contract in the mail a few weeks later (something they did back then). Oh, and by the way, Hank Aaron didn't start - nor even play in the field - that night. In his only at-bat, he pinch hit late in the game, dribbled one in front of the plate and was easily thrown out. It was the only time I would ever see him play. I still have the ball, the game program and my honorary contract from that game. I will cherish them forever.
    Like many sons, one of the few common interest I shared with my father was baseball (a la Field of ...

    — R Burnett  

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    Allowlwrarm

    France

    January 9, 2011

    ->

    In reply to R Burnett:

    Throughout a sustained journey to Viagra Avalon Morgeyna strain in a stretcher, not getting up, her chief throbbing, and in his astuteness again and again hitting confusion: "Why!" After three days of fasting and ritual of a prolonged day she was unreservedly exhausted. She is distractedly posted that the sundown feasting and lovemaking were intended to unleash this power, and so would all the cases andtions has, and she completely would acquire stumble upon to, if not a morning shock.
    Morgeyna himselfI knew enough to understand: on a former occasion the bowl over and enervation supplemental to, comes a paddy, and she wanted to return to Viviana in front of wrath l determination change for the better out, until she is adept to depict cloak of calm.
    This time they chose the process l through the lake, and Morgeyne allowed, according to her urgent entreaty, mainly of the journey on foot, because she had not been ritually shields virgin practice it justla priestess of the Lady of the Lake environment. When the boat moved to the lake, she was asked to label the mists to originate a gateway to Avalon, Morgeyna stood up without rounded off cogitative, so l set to admit this ordinance as a material of course, as an fundamental allotment of their lives.
    Though, raising his hands,l lshe suddenly froze on a concern, in the power of doubt. Middle it was a hard cash so meritorious, were whether she had strength to father a lie? In the power of recalcitrant vexation Morgeyna hesitated in the service of a second, and the rowers looked at her with proper sympathy. She felt the raw them, sharp looks and felt skilful to fade away into the range with shame, as if the whole shebang that happened to her the night before, is inscribed on her obverse letters lust. On high the lake floated a unperturbed church bells, and unexpectedly Morgeyna again transported to a frigid childhood: she listened as the originator of Columbus pathetically talking almost purity as the upper crust way to come nigh the holiness of Mary, Mummy of God that miraculously gave beginning to her son, conditions long ago mired worldly sin. Even at that time Morgeyna consideration to myself: "What utter cackle, how could a helpmate accept a baby, not significant a man?" But when the sacred substantial of the bell is something entrails of her as if dead to the world, crumbledl into dust, sank into

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  3. +

    Cal Ripken and his Unfamily

    Date Submitted: October 1, 2010

    Image for Cal Ripken and his Unfamily
    This picture was taken by Cal's assistant at a book signing a few years back when my son was 4 - everyone who bought a book and stood in line to get an autograph got a photo opp with the Ironman, so hundreds of other people have similar photos. The thing abou this one is, I used it as the screen saver on my work computer from the time I got it until my work computer was stolen over the summer. I work in an elementary school in DC, and none of the kids at school (except my son) are really into baseball. Even on the off-chance they were, and could recognize a contemporary player like, say, A-Rod, there's no way any of them would be able to recognize a player who's been retired since they were babies or before they were even born. So I guess it isn't all that surprising that, seeing a picture of me and my son (whom they do all know, since he's been at the school since preK) with some old(ish) white guy, they'd assume he was my husband and Frankie Joe's dad. Poor kids, they probably never understood why that made me laugh so hard. No, I'm not nearly altruistic enough that, were I, in fact, married to a living legend, I'd still be schlepping into work every morning. At least not in a workspace where they never replaced my stolen computer.

    Still, legend he may be, but in a way it kind of tickles me to know that there are quite a few DC schoolkids who, if they ever saw Cal Ripken, would say "oh look, it's the librarian's husband".
    This picture was taken by Cal's assistant at a book signing a few years back when my son was ...

    — Maria Scinto  

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    Meeting my hero: Cal Ripken, Jr.

    Date Submitted: October 1, 2010

    I am a big Baltimore Orioles fan, so of course my favorite player is Cal Ripken, Jr. He is my hero and I finally saw a chance to meet him. I went to many games at Oriole Park at Camden Yards hoping to meet him after a game along with 5,000 other fans. I was disappointed many times but my wish came true in 2005. I went to the all-star game in Detroit, and I heard that Cal was going to be there signing autographs. My heart leaped because this was my big chance, I waited for about 30 minutes until it was my time and I marched up to the table that he was sitting at and I got to talk with him briefly and he signed a picture for me. I told him about all of my failed attempts before and he said, "Thanks for sticking with me kid." It was the greatest moment of my life. I have a framed picture in my "baseball" room marking the occasion.
    I am a big Baltimore Orioles fan, so of course my favorite player is Cal Ripken, Jr. He is my ...

    — April Phillips  

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    Baseball connections

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

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    I like to say, I come from a baseball family, my pop (grandfather) loved baseball and taught that to my father, who loves baseball. Growing up in a suburb of Los Angeles, I was fortunate to listen to Vin Scully broadcast the Dodger games. I got a world class baseball education.

    Baseball has connected me to family and friends. My dad took us to Dodger games, despite the traffic. My favorite memory was when my brother, 3 years old at the time, tried to take a bite of a lady’s Dodger dog in the next seat. The one summer I spent in the DC area, I went to an Orioles game with a college friend and her cousins. Another college friend took us on a tour of his beloved Wrigley Field, a highlight of our Chicago trip. I reconnected with my junior high volleyball coach in Arizona, watching the Angels in spring training. My brother-in-law took us to Shea Stadium to see the Mets play the Angels. I met up with my cousin and her family from Northern California to watch a game at the new Padre Stadium. And a valentine or birthday gift from or to my husband involves a Red Sox game.

    Baseball gave me some respect among my new Boston co-workers. Although I grew up in Southern California watching the Dodgers and Angels, I knew my baseball history. My first summer in Boston was in 1999, I was able to experience the magic of the All-Star game at Fenway, standing on Lansdowne Street during the home run derby. I am fortunate to witness two Red Sox World Series Championships in my life. The next morning after the 2004 World Series victory, I walked down to Fenway and watched lifelong Red Sox fans holding newspapers with the victory headlines taking pictures in front of Fenway. There was a huge line waiting for World Series Champion t-shirts outside the Souvenir Store. And by chance, the young GM, Theo Epstein walked passed and looked amazed at the reception. Living in the Fenway neighborhood of Boston is an honor, I have baseball year-round.
    I like to say, I come from a baseball family, my pop (grandfather) loved baseball and taught that to my ...

    — Yolanda  Boston, MA

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  6. +

    hitting

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    I played a lot of sports when I was a kid but baseball was always my favorite. The sensation of hitting a baseball solidly is intoxicating. I never wanted batting practice to end.
    I played a lot of sports when I was a kid but baseball was always my favorite. The sensation of ...

    — Allan Townsend  

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    El mejor pelotero del mundo !

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    I had the privilege to work for the Montreal Expos' salesforce in 2000. Every homestand, during batting practice, we would be sitting in the stands and be looking at one of the best players in baseball, Vladimir Guerrero.

    I was told by a security guard, that Vlad was entering the stadium from the subway entrance at 3:15 sharp everyday. On Wednesday June 7th, I left my office at 3:15 sharp, to find myself face to face with my favorite Expos player, and ask him for his autograph.

    Being from a french-speaking family in Canada, i know it all about respecting you mother language and being proud of it. So i asked Vlad :

    Quieres tu dedicar me la pelota , por favor.

    He smiled with a child's face, thanking me to speak his language. He signed the sweetspot and while shaking his enormous hand,i said :

    Por me, u es el mejor pelotero del mundo.

    I returned happy to my office and from that day, everytime i would meet him,, he always smiled back and waved at me. One of my best souvenirs of the Montreal Expos.

    I miss you Vlad and I miss my Montreal Expos.
    I had the privilege to work for the Montreal Expos' salesforce in 2000. Every homestand, during batting practice, we would ...

    — Jean Allard  Montreal, Quebec, Canada

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  8. +

    Stan Musial & Doc Weaver

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    My Grandfather and storied Cardinal's Trainer Dr. Harrison J. "Buck" Weaver were boyhood friends growing up together in Miamisburg, Ohio.
    Uncle Buck, as I knew Doc Weaver, and my Grandfather would get together whenever the Cards went to Cincinnati for a stand with the Reds.
    One of my earliest memories (from the early 50's) was Uncle Buck saying to me, "Chris, I want you to meet Stan Musial". I still remember shaking hands with "Stan the man".
    My brother & I still have a number of baseballs signed by Stan that Uncle Buck sent my Grandfather.
    To this day, whenever I hear a baseball game on the radio, I think of my Grandfather sitting on his porch in the evening, playing solitaire while listening to baseball on WLW radio. Great memories!
    My Grandfather and storied Cardinal's Trainer Dr. Harrison J. "Buck" Weaver were boyhood friends growing up together in Miamisburg ...

    — Chris Albrecht  Knoxville, TN

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  9. +

    Baseball

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

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    I love baseball, it's that simple.

    I first learned about the game from my Uncle Bob, who grew up watching the Tigers, and following the Indians and his favorite player, Mickey Mantle of the Yankees.

    He would tell be how fast Mantle was leaving the batters box, and how he streaked down the 1st base line.

    I grew up a Detroit Tigers fan, and my hero as a boy was the Tigers catcher, and Gold Glove winner, Bill Freehan.

    I loved Freehan, still do. I absorbed everything I could about Freehan, how he stood in the batters box, how he swung, how he ran the bases, and how he played catcher.

    I wanted his #11 when I played Little League Baseball, and I copied Freehan's batting style when I hit.

    My Uncle Bob taught me everything about baseball. He taught me about the history, and taught me and my brothers how to play the game the right way.

    From 1967-73 he took me to at least 1 game a year to Tiger Stadium to watch my beloved Tigers, including watching Denny McLain shut out the ChiSox in '69, and watching Nolan Ryan no-hit the Tigers in 1973.

    When I think about baseball, I think about those sandlot days in Portage, Michigan, where I grew up, and how much fun we had.

    Baseball is the greatest sport ever invented by man.

    Oh, by the way, the picture is me with a Mohawk, in honor of the 2010 Tiger players who got the cuts earlier this year.
    I love baseball, it's that simple.

    I first learned about the game from my Uncle Bob, who grew up ...

    — John Sharp  Jacksonville, Florida

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  10. +

    Small World

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    I grew up in Brooklyn,however,being an Italian American, we related to Joe Di Maggio, and so we were Yankee fans. I hated the Dodgers with such a passion, (with the exception of Dolph Camilli and Cookie Lavagetto), that I really loved them. My first major league game was on July 4, 1939. That was Lou Gehrig day at Yankee Stadium. I read Lou Gehrig's biography, written by Jonathan Eig, and I just had to write him to correct an ommision in his story. He mentioned all the past Yankee stars that were present that day, but he never mentioned Goeorge Pipgras in his book. It turned out that he was one of the umpires that day. I remember when they completed introducing the past stars, the fans chanted, "We want Pipgras"! I really didn't understand the chant at that time. He finally came out from the umpire's room and joined all the old timers. Mr Eig wrote me back and realized his ommision. In the Tenth Inning, Ken Burns writes about the Hispanic players in the major leagues not being able to cross the color line. The pitcher for the Washington Senators in the second game of the double header was Alexander Carrasquel. He was Venezuelan, but of Castillian heritage, so was not excluded. For some reason, I cannot forget that name. The first home run I ever saw was off him, hit by George Selkirk, the Yankee right fielder. A little later in my young life, I belonged to Happy Felton's Knothole Gang in Brooklyn, and the Yankee Boosters. Consequently, when school was out, I saw every game played in New York that summer. The schedules were arranged that the Dodgers and the Yankees were never playing at home on the same dates. I recall seeing Ted Williams, Hank Greenberg, Bobby Doerr, Vernon Stephens Pete Reiser, Pewee Reese, Sal Maglie and above all Jackie Robinson and Roy Campanella and all the great players of those days. Of course, Joe D was my one of two of my favorites. A strange thing--my other favorite was Charlie Keller. As fate would have it, when I got older I became a neighbor of Charlie Keller in Frederick, MD. What a small world!
    I also played ball with Frank Torre, Joe Torre's older brother. We were both on the team, The Brooklyn Royals, playing in Marine Park and the Parade Grounds in Brooklyn. I never new Joe. Small wonders. I also like the tale I tell about my long conversation with Di Maggio. I was delivering flowers in Manhattan, and I had to deliver to the Hotel Pierre. As I walked down the hallway, Joe D approached me. I said "Hi Joe", and he replied, "Hi kid." That was the extent of my conversation with the great Di Maggio.
    I grew up in Brooklyn,however,being an Italian American, we related to Joe Di Maggio, and so we were ...

    — Aldo Pileggi  Frederick, MD

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  11. +

    Maris & Mantle

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    My family would go visit my mom's parents each summer. They lived in New Jersey, just outside of NYC. The summer of 1961, Dad took us all to a Yankees game to see Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris. I was about 9 or 10 and was totally awed by my surroundings. I don't remember who the visiting team was that day. But I came home with a Yankess ball cap and a Mickey Mantle/Roger Maris sweatshirt. It was a prize possesion for many years. That was a good day!
    My family would go visit my mom's parents each summer. They lived in New Jersey, just outside of NYC ...

    — Rob Heath  Monument, CO

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  12. +

    My Dad & Baseball

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    I grew up in Maryland. We spent summers on the Eastern Shore listening to Oriole games on the radio. I thought Chuck Thompson was the voice of God. I still have the radio that provided my dad and I with hours of entertainment. I still love listening to baseball on the radio. Chuck and my dad are gone now, but the Orioles are still around; wait till next year!
    I grew up in Maryland. We spent summers on the Eastern Shore listening to Oriole games on the radio. I ...

    — Carol Bachmann  Springfield, VA

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  13. +

    I remember....

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    how much fun we had growing up playing the game. Even as we've grown up going thru the good and the bad (Dark Days)it still holds that special something that can take us back to "that time" of just fun!
    how much fun we had growing up playing the game. Even as we've grown up going thru the good ...

    — Jeff O'Gorman  Oregon

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    William von Rentzell

    La Grange Park IL

    November 16, 2010

    ->

    In reply to Jeff O'Gorman:

    Excuse the lame title please.I've been pretty lucky. I played very little organized sports as a kid. As a parent though I've been very lucky. I was able to coach and only as replacement for a game or 2 manage Little League baseball. I recall one game I was filling in for the team manager and had a chance to make a difference in a kids life. Our pitcher for the game was a kid of a recent divorce. Very few kids come through that totally unscathed. Self confidence seems to be a common casualty with them. Anyway, he was having trouble controlling his frustration with inability to throw strikes unhit. I Really had no Idea who to put in in his place. I brought him to the baseline(cross it and you've got to replace the pitcher) and from somewhere the right words and calm came and I was able to convince him to settle down and give himself a chance to just have fun on the mound. He won the game for us. My recollection is that I've been really lucky that way in all the sports I've been assistant coach taking over for a game. The teams always won the games. I was going to say for me but in fact I just avoided getting in the way of their previously well managed performance. There's nothing like coaching for giving you a chance to help kids find out just how good they are, that they can actually perform in the game. Coaching 1st base for my son's 13 Y/O team was an absolute blast. Teaching the lesser experienced kids how to challenge the pitcher was where the fun was. I like to think we caused a few bases on balls and there's nothing like when you've helped a kid steal 2nd for the first time. Many many of my fondest memories are of experiences from coaching youth sports. Yes, baseball, soccer, and roller hockey have been very good to me.

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  14. +

    Phillies

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

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    The fans of the Phillies don't get the same sentimental treatment that Cubs or Red Sox fans get. But the journey for Phillies fans, at least fans over 40 years old, was a longer, harder journey than either Boston or Chicago fans could imagine. Fromm 1883 until 1979, the Phillies had never won the World Series, and had only twice won the pennant, 1915 and 1950. But, from 1976 until the current season, the glory days of Phillies baseball is upon us. Nine division titles, 5 penenats and 2 World Championships. One day, my son will know about the Whiz kids, the Wheez Kids, Mitch Williams, Davey Lopes, Black Friday, 1964 and so on. For now, he knows the 07 Mets collapse, the 2008 Championship, and the best team in baseball (2010). he is one lucky kid!
    The fans of the Phillies don't get the same sentimental treatment that Cubs or Red Sox fans get. But ...

    — Matt Perthes  19083

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  15. +

    Unassisted Triple Play!

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

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    My 8 year son played some travel ball over the summer, and one particular game, inning, and play stands out from the rest. He was playing second base, as I had him fielding in-between first and second base. It was the bottom of the 3rd inning, bases loaded, and no outs. All runners on base were instructed by there manager to run on contact. This is how the play unravels. Batter hits a line drive right into my sons glove; out number one, then he immediately runs to second base, tags the bag; out number two, the runner on first takes off with his head down, my son sticks out his glove, tags the runner; out number three. Unassisted triple play! Inning over. I was so proud of him. The next day when we returned for the final day of the tournament everyone was talking about the unassisted triple play.
    My 8 year son played some travel ball over the summer, and one particular game, inning, and play stands out ...

    — Brian Manda  Tallmadge, OH

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    Patrick R. Lynch

    Baltimore, MD

    September 30, 2010

    ->

    In reply to Brian Manda:

    One word: golden !!!

    My eighteen year old son played local rec. ball. They were some of the fondest days of my adult life. Thanks for sharing !

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  16. +

    Watching the Cards win....from South Africa

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    In 2006, I had just become a full-fledged Cardinals fan, thanks to the help of my then-boyfriend/now-husban... We went to games all spring and summer, and I soaked up as much about this game as I could. (After growing up in Milwaukee, football was the family game of choice).

    At the end of the summer, I left for an internship in Cape Town. When the Cards won the division, I got a call in the wee hours of the morning, telling me! When they won the league championship, I got another excited call (from the bleachers at Busch) telling me! And finally, I was able to convince the owner of the building I lived in to get ESPN-International, so I could watch the World Series!

    I sat by myself, starting at about 2:30am, in the TV room of the YMCA where I lived, my eyes tearing up at the sight of my hometown stadium, hoping beyond hope that I could catch a glimpse of my partner in the bleachers! No glimpse of him, but what fun it was to watch! Sadly, I fell asleep around 5am, but woke up to a call from the bleachers. All I could hear was the excited screaming!! It was amazing!! And I wished I was there so badly!!!

    I wore my cardinals shirt the next day, hoping that someone would see and would know what had happened the night before, but sadly, baseball was not known. Luckily for me, my friends there cheered with me and were so happy for the exciting win!!

    Go Cards!!!
    In 2006, I had just become a full-fledged Cardinals fan, thanks to the help of my then-boyfriend/now-husban... We went ...

    — Ahimsa2u  St. Louis

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    My Exposure to the World Series

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    In 1966, I was twelve years of age and my foremost love was major league baseball, and namely, my hometown Baltimore Orioles. I was quite passionate about my Orioles. I did the transistor radio thing in bed when the Birds played on the West Coast. I couldn't wait to read the game summary in the local paper the next day.
    My father announced he purchased two tickets for what turned out to be the fourth and final game of the '66 Series. My father chose to take me rather than my older brother.(My brother was crushed. His passion was wrestling). I had a great view of the last out of the game - a fly ball to center fielder Paul Blair. We were seated in the right field general admission seats. Brooks Robinson gleefully "leapt" into the arms of Dave McNally. The highly underrated Os were World Champions! It was one of the most thrilling moments of my life. I recently told my eighteen-year-old son that I hope he lives to see the Orioles once again participate in the World Series. There is nothing like it when your home town team goes to the "Big Dance" !!
    In 1966, I was twelve years of age and my foremost love was major league baseball, and namely, my hometown ...

    — Patrick R. Lynch  Baltimore, MD

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  18. +

    "From the outhouse to the penthouse"

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

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    I have been a Red Sox fan my entire life. When you grow up in New England, the Red Sox are the focus, as well as the backdrop, to the entire summer. For example, between October and April, every evening our living-room TV would be a window to a variety of shows. From sitcoms, to Chronicle; cop dramas, to SNL; the news, to This Old House. At the same time my parents rarely paid attention, spending their time talking, playing Scrabble, or reading rather than watching.

    However from the moment the leaf bulbs appeared to the moment they turned yellowish orange nothing else, and I mean nothing else, was on our television but the Red Sox and NESN.

    My father took me to my first Red Sox game in May of 1986 and we faced the Oakland Athletics, consequently this was also my father's first game since he grew up poor on a Northern Connecticut farm. I can still remember us looking at each other as we emerged from the concourse with nothing but a sea of green in front of us, bathed in the smells and sounds of Fenway. To this day at any stadium, I still love so deeply that first moment when you finally are released from the marching masses to see the field.

    Our seats were obstructed view and in the very back of the third base grandstand. For those who have not been to Fenway, many seats are blocked or obstructed by steel pillars that support the upper deck. Despite the distance and my much smaller perspective, I can distinctly recall how much larger Jose Canseco appeared than every other player.

    The Red Sox lost that game, and we all know what happened at the end of that 1986 season.

    I move my story ahead twenty-one years to May of 2007, almost to the day of my first Red Sox game. My father and I decide to go to game between the Sox and the Detroit Tigers. In the years since that first game, my father and I had not been to another game together. My father works in the railroad industry and during those years he often was traveling to, and even living in, other parts of the country; but he wanted us to stay in Mass with the family. So I, on the other hand, had the fortune to always live close to Boston and went to college in Providence. Both of which afforded me the opportunity of a quick train ride to the park and some scalped seats.

    This game was scheduled for May 16, 2007 with a 7:05 start time. But earlier that day a fast moving storm whipped across the state from west to east, with drenching rains and winds at 50+ mph. Since May 17th was the last time the Tigers would be in Boston that season, a doubleheader was scheduled. Our tickets were now valid for the 2:05 pm start on the 17th. The seats were front-row in straight-away center Section 34, which were the easily the best my father would have ever had in Fenway.

    Since I had now been to Fenway for dozens of night games I immediately directed us to Section 34. When we arrived we found nothing but a huge black tarp covering the entire area. During night games Sections 34 & 35 are open for seating, but when day games are played that section is covered in a black tarp to create a clean batter's eye. Looking around at the full house my father looked at me with shrunken eyes and said "either we have to stand or I guess we have to sit in the 'bleeders' again?" (Meaning nose-bleed seats or at the back of the park) But my father could not have predicted our outcome further from the truth.

    I went over the the nearest attendant to ask for advice. To my surprise we had been automatically upgraded to the Budweiser Deck, with a personal waitress and $100 in food vouchers. My father looks at me with renewed enthusiasm and said "well, it looks like we just went from the outhouse to the penthouse!"

    Currently, I work in the professional sports industry and live on the opposite side of the country from my family and the greatest little ballpark in the world. Long story short, I have been to tens of professional stadiums and the day I just described was the most incredible experience I have ever had at any of those venues. I am not sure if it was the buffalo wings, the Sam Adams, my Dad's smile, or the late inning Red Sox victory, but I will never forget that day.

    Thank you Ken Burns, for highlighting the 2004 Red Sox with such precision. My whole family enjoyed The Tenth Inning, and we watched it together over Skype!
    I have been a Red Sox fan my entire life. When you grow up in New England, the Red Sox ...

    — Chris  San Diego, CA (formerly Boston)

    Comments: 1 | Post a comment

    Patrick R. Lynch

    Baltimore

    September 30, 2010

    ->

    In reply to Chris:

    I, too, can remember my first major league ball game. It was around 1962 at the old Memorial Stadium in Baltimore. When my dad and I came out of the ramp and I first viewed the field from th upper deck, I remembered how the verdant green of the field took my breath away. I surrendered my life at that point to baseball.
    My business travels took me to the cool city of Boston about six years ago for a sales conference. One night an evening of entertainment was scheduled by the company at a location downtown. I cannot remember the name of the place, but it was like an adult playground, with many bowling lanes and very expansive adult beverage bars.
    On our return shuttle trip back to the hotel, I asked our van driver if we were going anywhere near Fenway Park. He said it was on the route back. I asked him to stop for a moment. I walked up the stadium and placed my hands on the brick facade. I kissed the facade and returned to the van. I was met with eerie silence by the others on the van. They will never know I had just been to the baseball equivalent of Mecca.
    I have yet to see a ball game in Fenway, but it will occur.
    Ken Burns is a magician in what he does to chronicile both the good and bad of baseball. Long live Ken nd baseball !!!

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  19. +

    A Yanks fan in Cali!

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    Not only do I hear it from people about how I'm a female so I obviously no nothing of sports no matter how much I'm into them, but I'm constantly told I'm in the "bandwagon" for being a New York fan. About an hour away are the Giants and A's, but since I played t-ball my heart has always been in New York. I remember how I cried, yes cried, when I first saw Derek Jeter up close and again when I met Roger Clemens. At that moment I realized how hurt I was to hear about steroids and one of my favorite athletes mentioned together but maybe its us and MLB who did that with the pressure we put on people to succeed. I'm surely glad the steroids era is over with and I'm ecstatic to see how players these days are doing it from straight talent. It makes me so proud to be a fan of the game and really bypass any judgement put on me relating to whom I'm a fan of and how much I know. Cause boys, I'll school ya :) GREAT DOCUMENTARY, I loved it.
    Not only do I hear it from people about how I'm a female so I obviously no nothing of ...

    — Angela  

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  20. +

    We played a game of baseball

    Date Submitted: September 30, 2010

    In 1959 I was in the 9th grade and lived in Longview, Washington, a small logging town on the Columbia river. Ships would come up river from Japan and other countries to unload cargo and take on logs and timber from the mills in southwest Washington.

    One day in early fall, a group of rough looking Japanese sailors from one of those ships walked a mile inland to the YMCA ball field where my friends and I often played. During that summer, baseball was what we did everyday we could. We neigborhood kids didn't have to plan ahead or call each other. We just headed for the ball field whenever we could.

    On this day, there were more of us than usual, maybe eight or nine. (We'de play with as little as four.) Use of the field was never contested. Everyone knew everyone else. Until this day.

    We hadn't been playing long when the group from the ship walked into the park. They had bats and one ball, some had gloves, some not. And, gulp, they were grown men and looked menacing to us. It was close enough to the second world war that the sight of Japanese men could spark anger among some older Americans, but we were too young for that.

    They were respectful and didn't say a thing to us. They just took seats in the stand and began watching us play. Since we had just started our game we knew it would be a long time till we would want to give up the field. We continued to play our game but could feel their eyes on us. We knew they wanted to field.

    We huddled and one of us suggested that we ask them if they would like to play against us. "But we don't speak Japanese and they don't speak English. How can we play?" "They must know the rules. We can just play the game."

    A couple of us went over to them and gestured somehow that we would like to play a game against them. None of them spoke a word of english that we could tell, but they accepted our offer to share the field and have a game.

    I'll never forget it!! We had never seen anyone play with as much passion and enthusiam as those rough looking sailors. There were collisions on the base paths, a few glares of disapproval following, but it was amazing how easy it was to keep the game orderly and moving along. We soon were able to tell who their best players were and they ours. We let their catcher use the one mask we had so both pitchers could throw hard. We loaned our gloves to some of them who had none.

    When someone would make a good play, players on the other team would give a thumbs up of appreciation. It rained a little so everyone got dirty.

    The game went a full nine innings and we beat them, but not by much. Score was kept on a grid scratched into the dirt. When it was over we shook hands with each of them and exchanged smiles and bows.

    It would be hard to find two groups of people as different as we small town, never been anywhere, white kids and these hardened working men from far across the sea. Some of them looked old enough to have been in the war and we could only guess what memories they had from their lives.

    But for that one afternoon, baseball brought us together. We never exchanged a word with them, but gestures and the language of the game were enough. It's one my very best memories from my teen years.

    (Ken Burns, Do you think there's a movie here?)

    When someone made a good play, players on the other team would give a thumbs up of appreaciation. It rained a little and some of the field had puddles so we all got dirty.
    In 1959 I was in the 9th grade and lived in Longview, Washington, a small logging town on the Columbia ...

    — Bill Hanson  Longview, Washington

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