Baseball

People who know me well, know that I love baseball. There are more things wrapped into a given game than you can find in almost any other sport: opportunity for a truly leisurely viewing experience (conversations, even if not about the game, are quite alright—no need to be in a hurry); beer and brats and hot dogs; strategy; politics; rivalries; stunning athletic moves; rare need to stop the game because of injury (this isn't a contact sport, except sometimes at home plate on a close play); statistics (lots and lots of statistics); opportunity for an extended, extra-innings game; apple pie; Chevrolet. (If you don't get the apple pie and Chevrolet part, watch the old Chevy commercial here. This is about remembering the good old times, not about unnecessary flag waving.)

Baseball was big in my home town. High schools in my neck of the woods were too small to support football programs, but we all had good baseball teams. Plus there were numerous Little League teams, pickup games at picnics and whenever groups of us kids gathered, summer softball teams, and quite good town baseball teams for the 20 year olds who still wanted to play. Many of our summer evenings were spent watching our town play a neighboring town at well-tended town baseball parks.

Baseball was so important that when the World Series was on (games were played during the daytime, not in prime time), our school allowed us to leave study halls to watch the games on a TV that was set up for us on the stage which was at one end of our gymnasium. The Yankees, during those years, were always contenders. What really caught my attention was the so-called "Race for Ruth", which occurred in 1961 and which involved both Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle (Yankees, both of them) in pursuit of Babe Ruth's record of 60 home runs in a single season. More than anything else, these two men and the Yankees' winning ways, as well as other colorful Yankee players (e.g. Yogi Berra), made me a lifelong fan.

Both Maris and Mantle were on pace through the season to break Ruth's record. Newspapers featured a front page box that showed the current state of their progress toward this record. Maris eventually did break the record with 61 homers, although it was treated in a disgraceful way by officials, because Maris had eight more games in which to break the record than the Babe did (the season had been extended to 162 games per year from 154). Mantle was a media favorite, while Maris, a more reserved individual, was not always treated kindly. Nevertheless, these two guys were my heroes, and I came to like following the Yankees very, very much. I still do, although I must admit that my various connections to Minnesota and Wisconsin now draw me towards the Twins and Brewers sometimes too. People seem to either hate or love the Yankees—there is no in-between. I love them and love watching them, even if there is a lot of truth to the idea that they are the best team money can buy. (Sorry, Sarah and Josh!)

In July, 1968, I had an opportunity to see a Yankees vs. Twins game at the old Metropolitan field in Bloomington, Minnesota. In the picture below, which I took during the game, you will see Mickey Mantle at bat! Mickey retired from baseball that following September. Roger Maris, who by that time was playing for the Cardinals, retired at the end of that season as well.

Metropolitan field was located where the Mall of America now stands. You can read about the field here, if you wish, along with some history of the Twins (the relocated second edition of the Washington Senators). I like that the Twins are now playing outside again, where the game really belongs.

I thought about concluding with a paragraph on baseball movies. There are lots of good ones, and I have personal stories to go with some of them, so maybe that is fodder for a future blog.