I am 72 and I think just about done with this puberty thing.
My first baseball game memory was when my mother leaned over to me and said, "Brace yourself." Then the outfield fence gate swung open and a tall figure appeared. As he started his slow walk onto the outfield a roar exploded louder than I would ever hear. It scared the wits out of me.
It was 1948 in Cleveland's Municipal Stadium and the opponent was the New York Yankees. It was not uncommon that year for crowds of 70,000 plus to gather to watch the Yankees and Indians.
The relief pitcher finally arrived to the mound and finished his warm ups. Satchel Paige was ready to face the first batter. When he finished that task another roar exploded.
I must have thought to myself, "This baseball can be fun."
I tell folks that I also saw Cy Young pitch. The year was 1954 and he threw out the first pitch celebrating the opening of the new Little League park in my hometown. Sure he was 87 and wearing a brown suit but he was on the mound and threw the ball to home plate.
"Baseball been very, very good to me."
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