The Old Ball Game

The Old Ball Game

When I was growing up Baseball was the #1 sport in America. Baseball was and still is my favorite sport. Almost every kid I knew was a baseball fan. Almost every kid was dying to go to a major league baseball game, and of course every kid's "Holy Grail" was to catch a foul ball off the bat of a major league ballplayer, it certainly was mine.

My first close encounter with getting a ball hit into the stands was on Old Timers Day in the old Yankee Stadium – when the monuments were still on the field of play out in center-field. I was at the game with my Dad and my two Grandfathers. We were in the upper deck just to the third base side of home plate. I was about 10. I was sitting on the aisle and my Dad's Dad was sitting next to me. Yankee shortstop Tony Kubek hit a foul ball that came up and landed in the aisle right next to me. I jumped on it and got my hands on it. The next kid, much older, a high school kid, reached down and just ripped the ball right out of my hands. Just like that my prize was gone. I sat back down and looked over at my kindly Grandfather expecting sympathy. He looked at me and simply said, “You need to learn how to hold on to the ball”. He had grown up a city kid and he knew fair, or not, that's the way things worked and there was something to be learned in this.

I had my second sort of close encounter a couple of years later. I was with that same Grandfather and also with my Grandmother again at Yankee Stadium. We were sitting down the right-field line not far from the foul pole. The section was largely empty. Roger Maris was up and he hit a ball just foul into the stands near where we were. I started for it, as we were the closest fans to where the ball landed. I was close and although I was fast for my age I was still pretty young, maybe 12. An older, larger kid caught up to me just before I got to the ball. He pushed me aside to get to the ball 1^st. My Grandmother was not happy but my Grandfather told her to leave it and she did. I was now experienced with how it went with these things so was not so upset this time. I just wished I'd been faster. I went to many games at Yankee Stadium and some at Shea (Mets) but never again got close to a foul ball.

I moved out West and transitioned to an Oakland A's fan. I had season tickets for a few years when I lived in San Francisco. I went to plenty of games. I've been to literally 100's of games, and have seen games in multiple ballparks but no "Holy Grail". When Kris and I married we decided to move to Sacramento and I dropped the season tickets. We still went to games but just a couple or so a year.

It's 1993, and I'm now 44. We go to a day game at the Coliseum with my boss. It' a very hot sunny day and our seats are field level in the sun, just past the 3^rd base dugout and about 12 rows from the field. By hot I mean the most popular guys in the ballpark are those selling water in the stands. The A's were playing the White Sox. After a couple of innings everyone was finding reasons to get up and get into the shade. The section we were sitting in was full when the game started but continually got less so as the game went on. At the top of the 6^th inning Tim Raines is the first batter. I am at my seat. I was the only one in our row as well as the row in front of us. I stand up to adjust something from my seat and turn my back for a moment. I hear the crack of the bat and I turn around and the crowd between me and the batter is making noise and I see a sharp line drive heading for the row in front of me. I lean over the seat in front of me and swat the ball down and bending over the seat I grab the ball. In seconds I had like 6 people on top of me. I hold on to the ball tightly and then calmly I look each person in the eye and firmly tell them I have the ball. They slowly peeled off me and voila! I have my first foul ball with the help of my Grandfather's advice, but it's not the end of the story.

About 7 or 8 years later I'm at another A's game against the Arizona Diamondbacks. The whole family is there, like 10 or 12 of us. We are sitting in the 2^nd deck behind home plate. I am at the end of our section of seats. On the other side of me comes a family with 3 young boys. The boys all jockey for position and the youngest of course get's stuck sitting next to me. I start talking to him trying to start up a conversation, asking him questions about the game and such. He's pretty close-mouthed. So I start to rib him a bit trying to loosen him up without much luck. His responses are minimal. He's probably thinking it's bad enough I have to sit next to this strange man, can't he just leave me alone? In the middle of the game, the Diamondback's short-stop, Jay Bell, hits a foul ball that comes right to me. I stand up, reach up, and catch it. When I look back down I see the glove of the kid sitting next to me reaching over under my arms. All my family cheers me and want to see the ball. I show it to them but then I give it to the kid next to me. He now comes alive. There's a big smile on his face. He's talking to me for the rest of the game. Not only that, his 2 older brothers are now talking to me, like I'm gonna catch the next foul ball and they want in on it. It turns out this kid is a big baseball fan of the Oakland A's and this will be last time he gets to see them. In a few weeks his family is moving to the middle of the country like Minnesota or Iowa because his Dad is starting a new job there. Too bad the ball didn't slip through my hands and into his glove.

I still have the Tim Raines (first) foul ball and he is now in the Hall of Fame, but when I look at it I always remember that other foul ball. I see my dream, my childhood “Holy Grail”, fulfilled through the kid who sat next to me that day.