It was Sunday, May 10th. It was my birthday. I was 5 or 6. My childhood was very ‘sheltered’ and ‘regimented’ and I was never included in family discussions or asked for my opinion on anything.
This day the household was buzzing and everybody was rushing to get dressed. It was my birthday but I didn’t see any signs of a party or celebration! We all loaded into the car and drove somewhere. We came to a huge building, lot of cars and people but I still didn’t know where we were. It didn’t look like the beach or the park so I’m starting to hate being there. I wasn’t allowed to cry or pout or sass but I was withholding my anger. Either I dared to ask or was told we were at Comiskey Park. The players came out and as the game started, my uncle explained what was going on. By the 3rd or 4th inning I found myself cheering “C’mon Minnie”, or “Yea Luis” By the end of the game I was hooked so I thoroughly enjoyed the double-header.
I used to know every player’s position, every team, kept up with batting averages – now that I’m 75, I just score the games and love every minute!
