Baseball. It is like the loves in your life. You will most vividly remember your first love and your last. While there may be many loves in between you will always remember these two the most.
My first love was sparked on a cold Easter Sunday in April, 1971. A double header between the Washington Senators and the New York Yankees in RFK stadium. I was only nine years old. I cannot tell you who won either game. It didn’t matter. I was in love. What I do remember was the giant of a man named Frank Howard hitting a baseball a very long way. A rookie named Toby Harrah becoming my sister’s first sports hero (later that season Toby had appendicitis…My sister sent him a get-well note and got an autograph photo in return). Elliot Maddox didn’t run, he glided his way through center field. I remember my father trying to explain to me why Curt Flood was (or was not?) a baseball villain. The field was huge and the dew turned the grass a silver white. I remember hoping someone would hit a ball off of the big Longines clock in right field. I remember my father telling me Thurmond Munson was his favorite Yankee and what a great career he was going to have. I was appalled – We were now Senators Fans! How could he have a favorite player on another team.
In September of that year, my dad got transferred to Dallas, Texas. In October Bob Short announced the Senators were moving to Arlington, Texas to later become the Rangers. I do know the Senators lost their last game 9-0 on a forfeit after the fans stormed the field. I was listening to the game on the radio. I didn’t understand it, but I knew my lover was following me.
I have had many loves since then. They have all ended in heartbreak. Some in August, some in September, and the most tragic ones in October.
My most recent love continued last night, Rangers 7, Mariners 3. There is a chance…hopefully this love will not break my heart again…
