Childhood Baseball Memories

Baseball has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.  Some of my fondest childhood memories revolve around playing baseball in little league and going to major league games with my dad.  Baseball always was a great father-son bonding moment for me as a kid, and I've carried on the tradition with my son.

Before moving to Long Island, I lived in Queens, where we had no backyard, and the only time that we could play ball was if we went to a park.  We moved to Long Island in the winter of 1976 to a house with an enormous backyard.  We spent our first few months on Long Island playing in the snow in the backyard, but we truly appreciated our new yard when the snowy winter finally yielded to the first days of spring.

Our backyard became, for all intents and purposes, the neighborhood ball field.  We strategically placed a rubber home plate at one end of the yard.  There was a gigantic tree that served as first base, a smaller tree situated perfectly as second base and a well-placed bush as third base.  I doubt very much that the landscaping was planned around the creation of a ball field, but my brother and I used our creativity to build our very own field of dreams.

On spring days, my dad would pitch to one of us while the other would play the field.  The yard was big enough to allow us to use baseballs, at least during our younger years before we discovered our power and we started breaking windows on the house.  My father, my brother and I were always playing baseball in the backyard.  Even when we weren't hitting, I can still remember enjoying throwing a baseball back and forth to my dad, who never seemed too tired to play with us even after a hard day of work. 

The backyard baseball playing was great.  It served as great practice to develop our skills.  In the spring of 1977, I played on my first little league team - the Yankees.  It was a time for learning, although the games were a bit frustrating at times, especially when we had to hit off of a tee.  It also took a number of games to get used to hitting pitches that were thrown by someone other than my dad, but I did finally get the hang of it. 

I still remember the day that I got my first hit in little league.  As I stood proudly on first base, I felt confident and ready for my next at-bat.  The second hit of the game was a double that I unsuccessfully tried to stretch into a triple.  I may have been a bit too aggressive running the bases, but I was excited to finally be hitting.

The following season, our team pretty much stayed in tact, but we were now called the Twins.  During this season, we were one of the top two teams in the league.  Coach Neylan did a great job with our team, and we came a long way from the previous season.  We made it to the championship game that season.  This game took place on the only fenced field in town.  There was a concession stand and announcers, and you really felt the playoff atmosphere, even though we were only 9 years old.

I wasn't usually a leadoff batter, but Coach Neylan decided that I would be for the championship game.  I can still recall the butterflies as I stepped up to the plate to face off against Walter, a kid that threw the ball harder than any other kid in the league.  Being the leadoff batter, I didn't even get the chance to check him out before facing him.  The adrenaline was pumping, and I managed to get a hold of one of Walter's pitches, and sent the ball sailing into a gap in the outfield.  As I rounded second base, I hesitated slightly, long enough for the ball to return to the infield.  After a short rundown, I slid in safely to third base.  A leadoff triple!  What a way to start the game.  I ended up scoring, and we took a 1-0 lead into the second inning.

That run would be our last for most of the game, while our opponents racked up 10 runs.  We finally rallied in the last inning.  We spent most of the inning with the bases loaded, and we closed the gap to a one-run margin.  The score was 10-9 with two outs and bases loaded.  Unfortunately, the batter due up was one of the weakest hitters on the team, and he grounded softly to the pitcher to end our rally and our championship dream.  We played hard and fought until the end, but came up a bit short.  I was disappointed, but happy that I played well.

This team stayed together for two more seasons, and lost another championship game to our rivals - the Yankees.  I can still recall most every kid crying except for me.  As competitive as I was, and still am, I never saw the point in crying over losing a game.  We never did win a championship during our four years together, but we always played hard, and came close a few times.  In the fifth season, most of my team moved up to the higher division without me because my birthday fell late in the year, causing me to miss the cut-off date.

It was during the holdback season that I finally got to play for my dad.  He had already been the coach of my younger brother's team for four seasons.  It was exciting to finally be on his team.  My dad was probably the fairest coach that anyone has ever played for, which is likely why his teams usually had a losing record.  To him, it was more important to give every kid a chance then it was to try and win games. 

The season that I played for him, we actually had a winning record, due in large part to a handful of good players.  Since I was now one of the oldest players in the league, I was also one of the most dominant players too.  In that 16 game season, I hit 5 home runs, a bunch of triples, and had around 30 RBI's and 15 or so stolen bases.  I was a catcher in little league, but my dad let me pitch one game just for fun.  I threw harder than most of the kids in the league, but I was by no means a pitcher.  That day, we won the game as I struck out 10 of the Senators players.  I also walked 6 of them, and if kids weren't swinging out of fear, my strikeout-to-walk ratio probably would have been much worse. 

The highlight of that year, aside from playing for my dad, was playing in the All-Star game.  It took place on the same fenced field as the championship game from years earlier.  I was batting in the clean-up position in this game.  When I stepped up to the plate against James T., I was thinking home run.  He laid the first pitch right over the plate, and I foolishly let it go by for a strike.  I knew that was the pitch that I wanted, and didn't know if I'd see it again.  Fortunately for me, James threw his second pitch to the exact same spot, and this time I sent it sailing about 50 feet over the fence onto another field.  It is a baseball moment that I will always remember with pride.

The other thing that I'll always remember about baseball is my father taking us to see a Mets game every year at Shea Stadium.  We always had so much fun at the games, although in our younger days, it was more about eating whatever junk food came around, and less about watching the actual game. 

I will always cherish those days, and I've kept up the tradition with my son.  Unfortunately, my father passed away in 2001, so he was never able to attend these games with me and my son.  If he had, I'm sure that he would have loved to have been the one to fill my son's belly with all of the junk food that the stadium has to offer.

My first major league game was at Shea Stadium with my dad, and my son's first major league game was at Shea Stadium with me.  While my son and I will see games in the new stadium that is being built, my memories of seeing games with my dad are all at Shea Stadium.  I understand that times change, and that teams are all getting new ballparks, but it saddens me that Shea Stadium is going to be torn down soon, because I won't have the chance to create baseball memories with my dad in the new stadium. 

When Shea Stadium gets torn down, it will not just be crumbling concrete to me.  A piece of my heart is going to be torn down on that day too.  Although no one can ever take away the memories of the times that I spent in Shea Stadium with my dad, it hurts to know that I will never be able to step foot inside the actual stadium again to relive my childhood baseball memories.