Saying goodbye...
Some memories, connected only in that they are from Civic Stadium. That, and that they are mine.
When we were pre-teens, my brother and I found some chewing tobacco in a dugout after a game while my dad was conducting an interview. We smuggled it home and the next day, while playing catch in the yard, tried some. We didn't know what we were doing so just crammed our mouths with the stuff and chewed it like bubblegum. You can guess what ensued Dear Reader.
There once was a mechanical cow on the right field fence. When an Emerald hit a home run, the cow would light up and "gallop." Prance?
One time I sent the boy for some nachos. This was a first. Not nachos, but sending the boy. He came back and, handing me the plastic tray, told me that he didn't know if I wanted relish on them so he put it on the side. Good boy.
A few years back, a pitcher threw a pitch, the batter hit a line drive foul into the stands. For the first, and only time in 41 seasons at that stadium, I caught it. That ball still has not touched the ground.
One of the last best things from my childhood, and one of the best connections I feel with my dad, is ending tomorrow. Tonight I am going to the penultimate game at good old Civic. By myself. I am going to spend some quality time with my old friend. Dad will be there too. I just know it.
When we were pre-teens, my brother and I found some chewing tobacco in a dugout after a game while my dad was conducting an interview. We smuggled it home and the next day, while playing catch in the yard, tried some. We didn't know what we were doing so just crammed our mouths with the stuff and chewed it like bubblegum. You can guess what ensued Dear Reader.
There once was a mechanical cow on the right field fence. When an Emerald hit a home run, the cow would light up and "gallop." Prance?
One time I sent the boy for some nachos. This was a first. Not nachos, but sending the boy. He came back and, handing me the plastic tray, told me that he didn't know if I wanted relish on them so he put it on the side. Good boy.
A few years back, a pitcher threw a pitch, the batter hit a line drive foul into the stands. For the first, and only time in 41 seasons at that stadium, I caught it. That ball still has not touched the ground.
One of the last best things from my childhood, and one of the best connections I feel with my dad, is ending tomorrow. Tonight I am going to the penultimate game at good old Civic. By myself. I am going to spend some quality time with my old friend. Dad will be there too. I just know it.
posted by Paul at 6:23 AM
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