Why I Love Baseball

Warning: this is going to be a long one.

I’m told that when I was about 3 years old I would watch the then New York Giants (baseball) on TV with Bob Mantler, a close friend of my parents, and their only friend who was not a Brooklyn Dodgers fan. He had me constantly cheering for Willie Mays. I believe this, because I know Uncle Bobby was the kind of guy who would find it funny that he had taught my parents’ oldest son to root against their Dodgers, but I can’t remember any of it.

I started following professional sports for real when I was 8 years old. It was 1960 and the Yankees were the only baseball team in town. All of my friends were Yankee fans. And why not – they won all but 2 AL pennants from 1949-1964. Mickey, Whitey, Yogi, Roger…why would anyone root for anyone else. I remember vividly crying after that bastard Bill Mazeroski hit that homer in the bottom of the ninth in game 7. The following year was the great homerun chase, and until the Yankees got rid of Yogi after the 1964 season, why would any New York boy root for anyone else?

I started following the New York Giants (football) a couple of years later, and starting in 1962, went to the games in Yankee Stadium with my cousins Ken and Neil and my brother Noah. Like idiots, we gave up the season tickets after Ken graduated from high school in 1965, but I was hooked on football, and with the decline of the Yankees and the fetid odor of those stinky Mets of the early and mid-60’s, my interest in baseball faded.

A few years later I became hooked by those wonder Knick teams, and basketball became my passion. When I moved to San Francisco in 1974, the first thing I did was buy season tickets to the Warriors. Eighth row, foul line, $7 per seat. Low and behold, they won that miraculous championship that year, the greatest, most overlooked Cinderella story in professional sports history. I still have those tickets, though I don’t go anymore. I have friends who take the seats each season and I keep the seats for them. BTW, I have 7 games of 2 seats left for this coming season if anyone’s interested. They do cost a bit more than $7 per game. In fact, parking costs more than that now.

I started following baseball again in the mid-80’s, and by the time the Pecklers joined BABI, I was following it regularly. BABI has certainly heightened my interest, and Pac Bell (SBC) Park cemented it. Since the new park was built, I’ve increased the number of games I attend from around 4 or 5 per season to about 20. And when I retire, I expect that number will increase. I just love going to games in that park. And baseball is now again at the top of my sports passion list, just like when I was a little kid watching Mickey et.al.

I have a purpose in telling that story. Recently I realized what it is about baseball that I like so much. When you go to a baseball game, you can really spend quality time with the person or persons you are with. The game is always on, but it doesn’t demand your constant attention. It’s more in the background, allowing for your attention as necessary. It’s a slow, relaxed setting for spending time with a friend or friends, maybe the best setting I can think of.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine, Randy Cole, died of complications from brain cancer. He’s just a little older than me, leaving his wife and three teen age kids. Randy played tennis with the Doc and me at the Olympic Club regularly during the past few years. He was a wonderful friend and a great teammate, and his premature passing is a real tragedy.

The Doc and I share our tickets to the Giants, and by luck of the draw and disinterest by our seat partners, we ended up with both Opening Day and Opening Night tickets. We decided that Seth would take Randy to Opening Day, but a couple of days before, he went into the hospital. At the time, it turned out not to be too big a thing, and he was out of the hospital in time to go, but he decided it was just a little too soon. So I took him to Opening Night instead.

We got to spend 4 hours together. The game, against the Dodgers, went downhill quickly, but it became an amusing backdrop to a long, rambling conversation about sports and baseball and family and life and death and everything in between. It was the best quality time I had ever spent with Randy, and as it turned out, the last. I know he really enjoyed it, as did I, and I’ll remember that night whenever I think of him. In retrospect, I can’t think of a better setting for hanging out with him.

I am reminded of that because last night I hung out at the park with a new friend, Eugene Lesser, who wrote that piece I published here. We had never met before, but I’ve been reading his emails for a few years and we’ve been trading emails. Eugene used to write for the Examiner, wherein he published a column known as “Sportsbirthdays” which was just an excuse for Eugene to write about sports and life. Anyway, we shook hands for the first time under the clock in Willie Mays plaza, went over to check out the Juan Marichal statue (very cool), and then went inside to get to know each other. Like opening night, the game stunk, the Giants got bombed (I’m now 2-3 in person this season), and I had a great time. The Colonel was there too, having bought a ticket from our seat neighbors, and the three of us just chatted all night. So now I have a new friend.

I just can’t think of anything that creates a setting for hanging out with friends any better than baseball. That may be one of the appeals of golf. And certainly our poker games make for a great boys night out. But watching a baseball game at the park is just a great way to spend time with someone.

The national pastime.