Boy’s first ballgame on deck, weather permitting
By The Heckler
Tomorrow is shaping up to be one of those once-in-a-lifetime events for The Heckler, and – weather permitting - one he would not miss for the world.
April 12, 2006 is scheduled to be the first real, live professional game for the son of The Heckler’s good friend, Irish Mike. Shea is three-years-old, and lives, eats and breathes baseball (with a little professional wrestling thrown in for good measure). From the moment he steps outside, his bat is in one of his hands, and his bag of balls being dragged behind him in the other. One ball gets tossed up, and – wack – he hits it, then gets another ball. Ball goes up – wack – gets another ball. He honestly looks as though he would do this until his arms fell off, really (supper, bath and bedtime be damned!) When all the balls are hit, there he goes, over to the other end of the yard – only to repeat the process in the other direction.
It does a man’s heart good to see such genuine enthusiasm from a child that young – for anything. The fact that it is baseball is just that much sweeter. This goes without saying that, during the winter, the downstairs carpet acts as a sliding-practice mat. One way, slide, and then the other, slide – just don’t call him out. For the sake of harmony (keeping him – and you, and his dad - happy) he is always safe.
Tomorrow will be a big day for Shea: The three of us are planning to be at Comerica Park for the 1:05 p.m. start of the game between the Detroit Tigers and the defending World Champion Chicago White Sox, with Nate Robertson opposing Jose Contreras.
The look on his face the first time he sees that endless green, grassy field will be etched in my mind forever – good or bad. Now, I say bad simply because, you know – he’s three. Kids at that age can be strange just because, you know, they’re three-years-old!
Like the other day when my wife and I gave him a gift and, after furiously unwrapping it, began bawling because it wasn’t a toy like we usually give him. Forget the fact that it was a Pudge Rodriguez Tigers’ shirt – he wanted a toy and wasn’t happy with it no matter what it was.
Then I was told he didn’t take the shirt off for two days after we left.
Kids are funny. He could walk into that stadium and want nothing more than to have a hot dog – dismissing the field altogether. In that case, he’d fit right in with us, too. The last few years, the best action at that park has been at the concessions, at least for us.
Provided the rain holds off, I wonder what memories (if any, being so young) that he will keep from it. The sight of seeing all those green seats? The people? The crack of the bat? The smell of the food? The ride home? Who knows. One thing he will always have though, is someone definitively recording the day. For me, mine gets sketchy – even though it looks like I’ve pieced some of the puzzle together. But more on that later . . .
DO YOU HAVE MEMORIES OF ATTENDING YOUR FIRST PRO BASEBALL GAME, OR EVEN ONE OF YOUR FIRST GAMES?
Feel free to please post them in the comments section, available at the bottom of this post by clicking COMMENTS. The Heckler plans on sharing his later this week – involving a last-place expansion team, a tired bunch of sad sacks searching for an identity and one of the longest home runs I ever witnessed live. To me, then, I’d have sworn it went 900 feet. Come back soon for the full details!