Baseball Memories

The first pitch of the baseball season never fails to transport me back to my youth. My memories are filled with evenings spent huddled under a blanket with my little transistor radio and an earplug. With Vin Scully calling the game one could close ones eyes and almost smell the peanuts and crackerjacks.

My parents were divorced and my father God love him was never much of a dad. He was not one for lazy days in the park or weekend visits to Disneyland. However I was always guaranteed several Saturday afternoons at the ballpark during the baseball season.

We would always arrive early for batting practice. Program in hand we would find our seats and I would begin to methodically enter the starting lineups for both teams. The one skill I learned from my father was keeping score. I could rattle off the current average for any Dodger including their most recent at bat.

If it was a good day my father would limit his beer intake and actually discuss the game with me. However his drinking at the game rarely bothered me as young as I was I still understood that his alcoholism was part of the package. If I wanted to see him I had to accept the drinking. Most nights it hardly bothered me. I was just ecstatic to be at Chavez Ravine.

The most memorable game I attended with my father was not even played in Los Angeles. One Saturday he picked me and instead of heading to the ballpark he took us to the airport. Once there we caught a flight to San Diego and a taxi to the stadium so we could enjoy a Dodger/Padre game. We had great seats and a great time. The dogs in San Diego did not match up to Dodger dogs but few do. It was just great to share the game with my dad.