baseball

The Post Office, Part 1

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Starting at the top, clockwise: Lapel pin of America Responds stamp, Ornament commemorating 100 Years of Letters to Santa through the US Postal Service, America Responds stamp sheet, Harvey Milk stamp sheet, plastic mailbox to hold stamps or Valentine’s. (c)2016

Starting at the Top, clockwise: Baseball Sluggers, Sunday Funnies, Star Wars, Disney Magic, Super Heroes Chapter Two, Animals, Super Heroes Chapter One, Disney Romance, Star Trek. (c)2016

50-9 – Shea Stadium

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I mentioned in my last “50” that there was a Shea Stadium reflection. It still bothers me to this day. In fact, it  thirty-nine years ago today that it happened. Wow. Thirty-nine years. I guess I really can hold a grudge.

We had tickets to see the NY Mets play at Shea. It must have been ’77 and it was just me and my Dad. I have no recollection of who they were supposed to play. I don’t know if this was my first visit. I can remember other games, at least one, filling out the scorecard, reading the program, eating snacks. I probably still have the program in one of my boxes piled in the basement.

This day, however was July and there was a city-wide blackout that affected everything. Maybe you’ve heard about it. We must have driven; I don’t think the trains were running. How could they be?

By the time we arrived at the stadium, the decision to call the game had already been made. The stadium was mostly empty and my Dad and I walked around the cement concourse. Whatever vendors were there were already packing up. We looked down on the empty field and across; the perfect blue sky seeming much brighter from our shadowed place. The grass on the field also seemed somehow greener, brighter than normal or maybe I was seeing it through a ten year old’s eyes.

The reason they gave for cancelling (or maybe postponing) the game was that the scoreboard didn’t work, so they couldn’t hold the game. To this day, it still makes no sense to me. I mean it’s baseball. Do you really need electricity to play ball? It wasn’t even a night game. The scoreboard doesn’t work. Even my ten year old, polite, non-swearing self called bullshit on that one.

We never got back; not that I recall.

Whether it was our moving east to Long Island or my moving to ice hockey as my go-to sport (Rangers all the way!), I don’t know.

I still love the Mets and root for them always. My Dad grew up in the Bronx so his Mets affiliation was probably more for us kids than for his own feelings. You couldn’t like both, but we tried. He was such a good Dad. More than that, he was a good person. I hope I’m half as good as he was.

For now, though, Let’s Go Mets!

Basement Refuge

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Prompt – Was there a place you liked to sit and hide when you were a child?

 

My basement was my refuge. We had half of a green velvet couch down there tucked against the paneled box where the oil tank lived, so generally it was a warm, cozy place. It had one arm rest. It must have been a sectional sofa when it was in my grandparents’ apartment and I do vividly remember it there too. The arm faced the television on one of those wheeled stands complete with its rabbit ears and an Atari console. I remember lying down on it, my legs thrown over the arm, my head uncomfortably angled to watch the baseball game. I don’t recall if those years were as a Mets fan or a Yankees fan, Doug Flynn or Bucky Dent and I even spent a season as a Red Sox fan for Carl Yastrzemski. I think at this time Phil Rizzuto was a sportscaster and I thought watching the games so intently made me qualified to play one day despite my handicapping non-athleticism.

Also in the basement was a colloquial bar with many, many bottles of liquor: Johnny Walker, Chivas Regal, Dewar, others. It was very common to receive a bottle as a gift, not me, I was 11 or 12, but my parents even though they didn’t drink. I was, however allowed to bring one bottle to college if I remember correctly. The bottles were lined up nicely on the shelf and behind the bar counter was space for glasses and ice buckets. It even had its own light and switch.

On top of the bar was kept the stereo. Very large, very boxy with a clear plexiglass or plastic cover, it took up a third of the bar. Two large speakers stood on either side of it, although my huge headphones were usually plugged in. Here, I was a Beatle singing along to a box set long since warped in a basement flood. I sang loudly and of course, beautifully. They were all still alive and so in 1978 and ’79 there was that small chance that they would reunite. I think we still had an intense dislike for Yoko Ono although that somewhat mellowed after John died.

No one bothered me down there and I liked it like that. It was always my turn to choose the television programs and no one was ever in my seat.