My experience with him that evening made me reflect
upon the first Major league Baseball game I attended.
The first one should have been on July 30,
1958. My two brothers went to see the
Kansas City A’s play the New York Yankees at old Municipal Stadium with friends
in the neighborhood, but decided they did not want their six year old little
brother tagging along. The A’s were a mediocre team that year,
finished in seventh place, 71 -83. Disappointed,
I stayed home and listened to the game on my next to oldest brother’s
transistor radio. The A’s were leading 2
– 0 after the top of the fifth inning when it started to rain. It was a heavy downpour and the game was
called after one hour. My brothers got
no sympathy from me when they returned home explaining how they got drenched
while running to their car in the stadium parking lot. I laughed that they had gotten so wet.
It would be three years later; August 20, 1961, when
I would walk into Municipal Stadium with my parents’ friend from Topeka and his
son to see my first Major League game.
The A’s were playing the Chicago White Sox. It was the first season for new A’s owner
Charlie Finley and the team was headed that year to its second straight last
place finish. The White Sox lineup
included future Hall of Fame players Nellie Fox, Luis Aparicio, and former
Negro Leaguer Al Smith. Minnie Minoso,
who many believe deserves a Hall of Fame plaque, was their left fielder.
Seeing a Major League playing field for the first
time, I was awestruck by its beauty. The
grass was the greenest green and the infield dirt the richest brown I had ever
seen. I was mesmerized by the vivid
brightness of the blues, grays, and whites of both teams’ uniforms. It seemed I was looking through a high
definition color lens fifty years before HD TVs. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever
seen. I have never forgotten it.
There is also nothing like the sound of a solid hit
off the bat of a Major Leaguer. I can still
remember the sound of the A’s Norm Siebern’s second inning double. To me, there is no sound in any other sport
like it. The A’s lost 5-3.
A double header
was scheduled, but we could not stay for the second game as my parent’s friend
wanted to visit friends that lived near the stadium before heading home. I was crushed and felt like crying as I left
my seat. I vowed to never leave another
Major League game before it was over, especially a doubleheader.
Even though I have been true to that vow nearly 100%
over the years, I was smart enough not to push it with my grandson after seven
innings.
What do you remember about seeing your first Major
League baseball game?
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