It is the afternoon of September 25, 1973. I am an eleven-year-old latch-key kid in New York City. I am on the couch in the TV room, watching reruns of Lost in Space or Gilligan’s Island or I Dream of Jeanie. I am definitely not doing my homework. The phone rings. I answer; it’s my father, calling from
Thank you for your gifts, Andrew - for sharing your memory, favorite family photos, the heart felt imprint of your dad’s voice, invitation, your excitement. Your reminiscence puts us right there in your 11 year old shoes waiting at the door, to set off on a once in a life time adventure. Who knew that 50 years later, the ripple effect of telling about a ball game of great significance in the annals of baseball, would capture, just as importantly, an all encompassing formative moment. The magic you’ve uncorked seems to be entirely about reflecting on the personal significance of Willie Mays Night - the gladness and joy of father and young son with a shared interest going on a special trip to a special place for a special event. In doing so, those who never knew the thrill of sitting in the stands, can enjoy a glimpse of what being at the park meant years later - enough to bring a smile, nod and tear to eye.
Beautiful memories. I went to Willie Mays night at Shea that night. My son used that miniature bat souvenir to learn how to swing a bat. He loved the game and was still playing wooden bat baseball until he was well into his forties, RIP Willie and your Dad
Nice. I saw Willie with my Dad. We knew he was the greatest we had ever seen, although we were both Dodger fans back then. Willie helped break our hearts in 1962,
You forgot to mention whether both of your children are now avid baseball fans! We love them anyway.
Alas, I chose not to duplicate my father’s path and watch sports on the weekends when my kids were around so neither cares a whit about baseball. But that’s ok. We have other things.
Thank you for your gifts, Andrew - for sharing your memory, favorite family photos, the heart felt imprint of your dad’s voice, invitation, your excitement. Your reminiscence puts us right there in your 11 year old shoes waiting at the door, to set off on a once in a life time adventure. Who knew that 50 years later, the ripple effect of telling about a ball game of great significance in the annals of baseball, would capture, just as importantly, an all encompassing formative moment. The magic you’ve uncorked seems to be entirely about reflecting on the personal significance of Willie Mays Night - the gladness and joy of father and young son with a shared interest going on a special trip to a special place for a special event. In doing so, those who never knew the thrill of sitting in the stands, can enjoy a glimpse of what being at the park meant years later - enough to bring a smile, nod and tear to eye.
oh wow. thank you.
Love.
Beautiful memories. I went to Willie Mays night at Shea that night. My son used that miniature bat souvenir to learn how to swing a bat. He loved the game and was still playing wooden bat baseball until he was well into his forties, RIP Willie and your Dad
Lovely - you done your papa proud. There’s lots of folks to celebrate Willie.
Nice. I saw Willie with my Dad. We knew he was the greatest we had ever seen, although we were both Dodger fans back then. Willie helped break our hearts in 1962,
You forgot to mention whether both of your children are now avid baseball fans! We love them anyway.
Alas, I chose not to duplicate my father’s path and watch sports on the weekends when my kids were around so neither cares a whit about baseball. But that’s ok. We have other things.
I knew that. Same boat. To whom do I leave my cards?
I loved this, and remember well those three people in the picture.