A
trip to the ballpark isn't all about balls and strikes, hits and runs. We've been around the horn a couple of times—to
every major-league ballpark save the new Atlanta—and have collected not a few
baseball memories. Saw some great games, sure, and real clunkers. We've
collected plenty of memories that fuel two fans' lives.
Some
on the field, some off, here, in alphabetical order by city, are our favorites:
Arizona Diamondbacks/Bank
One Ballpark
Heat.
Heat and more heat. One hundred-degree heat. And an airplane hangar of a
ballpark.
Did
we say heat?
Atlanta Braves/Turner
Field
Driving
on deadline from St. Louis, snarled in late-afternoon rush-hour traffic, we had
no chance to stop anywhere and eat. Exhausted, starving, we called a Georgia
peach who met us at our seats with salami sandwiches. The Braves game that night
is lost to history, but—mustard and rye and Hebrew National—we never forgot the
taste of that dinner!
Baltimore
Orioles/Memorial Stadium
Way
back in '83, when Jesse was a wee shaver, we saw Oriole ace Storm Davis start
perfect, then fall apart, cr-ushed by
the Big Bash Twinkies—Bruno 'n' Herbie, Ward 'n' Gaetti. But neither Davis nor
the Eddie Murray/Rick Dempsey Birds ever lost their composure. We saw a strong
team, including a fabulous young shortstop named Ripken, picked 'em as
champeens, and were right!
Baltimore
Orioles/Oriole Park at Camden Yards
Same
team, new park, and the place is packed.
With the throwback baseball stadium era underway, Camden Yards was the
leader, and to this day arguably still the best, with Eutaw Street, the
warehouse, the cavernous concourses. We loved nothing more than that outfield, led
by Mike Devereaux and heartthrob Brady Anderson, who made a sensational catch
to erase a home run. But this was 1994, two years before he crashed 50 homers, when
he was just a scrappy centerfielder with sideburns right out of 90210.
Boston Red Sox/Fenway
Park
Led by our brave companion and faithful guide the Red Rover, we
made our first pilgrimage to the fabled Fenway, 1982. Oh, we had been Red Sox
fans forever, never more so than in '75 when we watched the Classic on TV and
gyrated along with Carlton Fisk in Game Six. Stay fair! But by '82, there had been many changes. El Tiante and
Freddie Lynn were both gone, and there, squatting behind the dish with the
visiting White Sox, wearing some truly dreadful togs, was Pudge. Carlton Fisk
as the enemy. Ron Kittle and Harold
Baines…and Pudge. Not even seeing Rice 'n' Yaz 'n' Dewey in their natural
habitat made up for that insult. Like seeing your ice cream scoop fall out of
the cone and plop! onto the sidewalk,
we just sat and stared.
Chicago
Cubs/Wrigley Field
The throwback park
before there were throwback parks! We fell forever in love way before the Cubs
game, when, sitting in a neighboring tavern, two perfect strangers from
Oklahoma treated us to pre-game beers. And it only got better from there, as
once we went inside, seeing Lake Michigan from the not-so-upper deck seats. Just
gorgeous!
Chicago White
Sox/New Comiskey
OK,
we admit it. We made a mistake. We didn't listen to Jim Croce's "Bad, Bad
Leroy Brown": On the South Side of
Chicago, in the baddest part of town...
Yuck.
We
took the train to the park. And then saw that it was one park too early for its
era. Nice-enough, sure, but without taste or class or, well, anything interesting.
We pined for Camden.
Cincinnati Reds/Riverfront
Stadium
It
was a memorable Labor Day outing, 1987, a trip to Riverfront to see the Reds
take on the Dodgers, followed by the greatest fireworks display these fans have
ever seen. By sheer chance, we stayed in the same hotel as the visiting
Angelinos, and so happened to meet manager Tommy Lasorda (big, blustery) and
announcer Vin Scully (humane, humble) in the elevator. For Jesse, still but a
lad, it was truly memorable.
For
his dad, the moment came in the park,
when then-Reds rightfielder Paul O'Neill butchered a fly ball. Walking back to his position, O'Neill kept
his head down.
"You better
hang your head, boy!" a little old apple-cheeked granny bellowed out.
Hmm, we said, seems
they take their baseball very
seriously here in farm country.
Cleveland
Indians/Municipal Stadium
Drab
July day, 1987, the Mistake by the Lake. Remembering the great line of that era—in Cleveland pennant fever is a 48-hour virus—the Indians are wallowing in another lost season, a full 30 games
under .500. What more could go wrong,
you ask? Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet! The Rangers put us through a seven-run,
45-minute third inning, that’s what. Pete Incaviglia, Larry Parrish, and the
hits just kept on comin’!
We
never went back.
Colorado Rockies/Coors
Field
With
vendors yowling pistachyos outside
the ballpark, we dizzily found our seats, a full mile above sea level. In that
rarified air, the ball really motors. We witnessed a Marquis Grissom tater,
which flew faster than the speed of sound and landed, we believe, somewhere east
of Nebraska. After the game, wishing we had brought oxygen, we gingerly climbed
our way back down.
Detroit Tigers/Tiger
Stadium
With
the Tigers hosting the fabled Stormin' Gorman Thomas/Cecil Cooper BrewCrew, we
saw the visiting Milwaukees bang back-to-back homers. Not to be outdone, Detroit
slugger Champ Summers walloped his own four-bagger off the facade in right.
Clong!
Houston Astros/Enron
Field
A
line entered our lexicon on an '00 trip to soupy, swampy Houston. Taking our
seats before the game, we gazed out at the field—the sloping outfield
reminiscent of this ballpark, the in-play flagpole reminiscent of that ballpark,
the jutting stands reminiscent of the other ballpark, the home run choo-choo
train reminiscent of Lionel. Jesse, who is, ah, minimally patient with wretched
excess, sat and looked, and looked, and looked. Finally, steam rising from his
ears, fed up with myriad self-indulgent design features that add nothing to the game, he snarled,
"just play the damn game!"
Which
to this day has been our rallying cry for anything that gets in the way of the
pure baseball experience.
Kansas City
Royals/Kaufman Stadium
It
was a beautiful Midwest Sunday in baseball's most beautiful modernist ballpark.
With the A's in town, and the famous fountains gurgling, we saw the visiting
Oaklanders—led by MVP Miguel Tejada and the juiced-up Jason
Giambi—pound out 21 runs on 21 hits, an all-time record
for us.
Los Angeles
Angels/Anaheim Stadium
When
the arthritic, re-tred Angels—Bob Boone and Rod Carew and Reggie Jackson all
way past their prime—gave visiting Mariner Jack Perconte a gift triple on a
catchable ball in right, well, we kind of lost interest. In the top of the first.
Los Angeles
Dodgers/Dodgers Stadium
A
beautiful ballpark, a beautiful night, a beat-up, below-.500 ballclub—Pedro
Guererro and five guys named Moe.
Next
time, we vowed, we're bringing crossword puzzles.
Miami Marlins/Pro
Player Park
We
were havin' a heat wave, a tropical heat wave, one steamy Sunday afternoon in
Miami. Wilting in the summer heat we counted 52 empty sections of seats. An
all-time non-attendance record, at least for us. After that, who could remember
the game?
Milwaukee
Brewers/County Stadium
It
was nearly the new century, and the visiting Mets were bound for glory. Heading
for the playoffs, and the Classic the following year, we picked them early as a
team of destiny. And our night in Milwaukee hardly proved us wrong.
In
old, decrepit County Stadium, the New Yorkers came out smokin'. Mike Piazza
pounded one out of the park. Benny Agbayani, all 225-pounds of Flyin' Hawaiian,
made a fabulous all-out diving catch in left. And to top off the game, on a
ball hit up the middle, which we tallied as a certain Brewer base hit, Met
second sacker Edgardo Alfonso ranged far to his right to stop the ball—worth a “!” in our scorebooks.
But
no-o-o! as the late John Belushi
would say. With all-everything shortstop Rey Ordonez cutting in front of him
across the infield, Alfonso flipped Ordonez the ball, who chucked it on to
first for the put-out.
It
was our first—and to date only—phantom double play, worth the first-ever, and still only, three
stars in our scorebooks.
Milwaukee Brewers/Miller Park
Same
team, new park, but this time it completed our first of two ballpark cycles. Driving
I-94 to Milwaukee, knowing that a storm—and a dome—awaited us, the exuberant Jesse hollered, "I
don’t care if there's hail with fire in it, we’re going to see this game!"
Minnesota Twins/Humphrey
Metrodome
We
dubbed it the Foam Dome, looming like a big cup of beer on the 10,000 Lakes.
In
town for the '87 World Series, we saw Kirbo 'n' Herbie 'n' the Man from Glad
beat up on the Cardinals. Oh, the billowing white roof. Oh, the white homer hankies!
Montreal Expos/Olympic
Stadium
In a hall right out of a Star Trek nightmare, the Expos and D'Backs beat at each other for ten
innings. Finally, in the bottom of the tenth, apparently tiring of the
proceedings, Vladimir Guerrero took matters in hand by simply parking a low, inside pitch.
As in, I've
had enough of this.
As in, time
to go home.
As in, damn! did he belt it.
New York Mets/Shea
Stadium
A
beautiful August Sunday. Mets taking on the visiting Cubs. Bases loaded. Mel Hall jacks one into the left field seats.
Then proceeds to take his victory lap around the bases, his batting gloves
flapping out of his back pockets. Goodbye!
At
that moment, Jesse decided that for his batting-glove ta-ta, Mel Hall was the absolute King of Cool, a player worthy of
emulation. So for the next, oh, 15,000 years Jesse always played ball with
something flapping out of his back pockets so he could wave goodbye like Mel
Hall.
Jesse's
dad is mightily happy that Jesse has outgrown it.
The
scene switches to Opening Day 2003. The year the Mets cratered to 66 wins and
we knew it. The Cubs—a full six months before all-time interloper Steve
Bartman’s name entered our consciousness—hung 15 on the hapless Mets in the single coldest baseball game
we’ve ever attended. Brr!
New York Yankees/Yankee
Stadium
Abby
pulls rank here, and shows his age.
Abby,
14, finally convinced his civilian (i.e., non-fan) father to take him to the
Bronx. Yankees hosted the execrable Washington Senators, whose biggest star was
38-year-old Gene Woodling.
Undeterred
by such raw talent, Mickey Mantle belted two home runs.
Abby
still has the scorecard.
Decades
later, night game in the House that Ruth, Lou Piniella hit a sac fly, bottom of
the first against the Pale Hose. Sox starter Britt Burns struck out 11, Yankee
Dave Righetti, then a starter, struck out seven, while the Pinstripers made the
1-0 score stand up. One of the most exciting games we've ever seen.
Oakland A's/Oakland-Alameda County Stadium
This
was a night we saw a near-murder.
Foul
ball near us. Ball bounces, rolls, comes to a stop. Little kid just about has
the ball. Jersey-wearing adult fan snatches it away from the child.
We
thought the crowd would kill the guy. Indeed, as an angry growl began to whip
around the stands, harsh words were said, names were called, and, finally,
before the fur really began to fly, the miscreant skulked out.
We
were glad to see him leave without bloodshed.
Philadelphia
Phillies/Veterans Stadium
July,
1986, burning hot Sunday, sitting near the top of another '70s-era concrete
ashtray, baking in the heat, barely able to see a blessed thing forty stories
below us, we thought, time for ballparks like this to go.
Less
than a decade later, when the world caught up with us, we hoisted a victory
beer to celebrate.
Pittsburgh
Pirates/Three Rivers Stadium
Because
Pittsburgh is our home base, we saw many memorable things. Pirate pitcher John
Tudor notching two hits in an inning. Cub Dave Kingman stealing a base. Bobby
Bonilla belting one into the upper deck, the highest hit we've ever seen. The
return of playoff baseball to Pittsburgh in 1990. And so on.
Perhaps
our all-time memorable moment came against the Cardinals in '91, when pre-PED Barry
Bonds hit an extra-inning, walk-off bomb off a Lee Smith 900 MPH fastball. We have the sneaking suspicion that ball is
still flying somewhere.
Close
second: Reds first baseman Pete Rose absolutely killed himself to catch a pop
foul. The Reds weren’t going anywhere, and Rose had already done everything a
man could do, but Charlie Hustle went for that ball full tilt, crashing into
the photographer's box at the edge of the field.
The
capper came when Rose, who made the out, returned to make sure the photographer
was all right.
Pittsburgh
Pirates/PNC Park
The
Black Out.
After
20 consecutive years of losing seasons, 1993-2012, the Pirates finally broke
.500, and given a revised and generous playoff schedule, steamed into the
post-season.
For
the one-game Wild Card, manager Clint Hurdle asked the fans to dress entirely
in black.
Which
the sell-out crowd did.
Relentlessly
chanting Cue-to! Cue-to! at the totally clueless Reds
moundsman, the fans loved seeing the Andrew McCutchen/Russell Martin Bucs beat
the Reds. The Pirates’ first post-season victory since the team's heartbreaking
loss to the Braves in '92.
Arguably
the most exciting baseball game of our lives.
San Diego Padres/Jack Murphy Stadium
When
the car died in the parking lot before the game we knew we were going to have
trouble.
We
called for a tow, got the car to a garage, got Mom and Jesse's baby brother to
a hotel, and took a taxi back to see a memorable close to an unmitigated
fiasco.
Right
next to us—right there—Phillie Mike Schmidt hit a meteor of a foul
ball, which caused a nearby fan, in his haste to get to the ball, to tear up
his hand.
Great.
Busted car. Stranded in San Diego. And now some guy bleeding all over the
seats.
In
a great walk-off, eight-time batting champ Tony Gwynn whacked a game-winning
triple, and the Padres reigned triumphant.
We
even found discarded scorecards to cap the night.
San Francisco
Giants/Candlestick Park
It
was a sunny July doubleheader and we were dressed for it. Wearing heavy shirts,
sweaters, and lined raincoats, we settled in for what seemed like a long Northern
California winter.
Then,
unexpectedly, the wind died down, the clouds departed, and we did a slow
striptease, shedding our thirty-seven snowsuits in the bright afternoon sun.
Then,
Sandy Frisco being Sandy Frisco, the weather turned right around, and we
quickly retrieved all our clothes.
We
think the Cardinals dropped both ends of the doubleheader, but our teeth were
chattering too loudly to talk, and our fingers were too numb to keep score.
Seattle Mariners/Safeco
Field
Back
in '01, it was Ichiro mania all over Seattle and for good cause. He fielded
like a demon and belted the pelota at a .350 clip to cop the batting title, won
Rookie of the Year and MVP honors, and led the Mariners to a record 116 wins.
For
our game in Seattle's dreary, dark, dank dungeon of a ballpark, Ichiro beat out
an infield single in the first inning to score the game's only run.
St. Louis
Cardinals/Busch Stadium
In
'00, the heyday of the wink-and-nod PED era, 40,000 fans showed up in red
Cardinals T-shirts to watch Giant Barry Bonds take on Mark McGwire in a batting
practice home run derby. As Bonds literally smashed scoreboard lights, sending
cascades of glass into the rightfield seats, McGwire hit balls into the fourth
deck in left. It was a display of raw
power we have never seen equaled.
Sure,
since then both players, and others, have excoriated this pair for their
obvious PED use—and their continued evasions about it. Our take?
It was how the game was played back then, and everybody enjoyed the show. The
current spate of revisionism has hardly dampened our memories of that special
night.
Tampa Bay Rays/Tropicana
Field
Before
the big changes, back when the team was
the Devil Rays, and the best they could offer was an aging Fred McGriff, we
went one night—and, after a pre-game visit to their cigar bar—felt distinctly as
if we were in a warehouse, waiting for a guy on a forklift to change the bases, and to be asked to turn the lights off when
we left.
Texas Rangers/The Ballpark at Arlington
Big,
Texas-style ballpark. Ivan Rodriguez, Rafael Palmeiro, and the Baja Marimba
Band. They went on to win a whopping 71 games that year.
Waiting
for some action, we saw DH David Segui hit a home run into the right field
seats and score it as such.
Then
there's an on-field conference. The umpires decide it was wasn't a homer. It
was just a loud foul ball that everyone miss-saw.
We
hate replay. And cried for replay.
Can't
anybody here umpire this game?
Toronto Blue
Jays/Skydome
Skydome,
Sunday, in the shadow of the CN Tower. Roger Clemens' 2,000th K, a milestone if
ever there were one.
Washington
Nationals/Nationals Park
Is
there a greater thrill than seeing your son on the ballfield?
OK,
while Jesse is no player, he did spend a season as a volunteer groundskeeper.
[Hope to read more about this someday. Next issue?] Wearing the red shirt,
spraying the infield, collecting every stray ball he could, no ever had a
better time.
Except
his dad.
Abby Mendelson is a writer and
educator in Pittsburgh whose books include histories of the Pittsburgh
Steelers, Pittsburgh neighborhoods and houses of worship, among others. Jesse Mendelson, his son, is an
executive in Washington, D.C., skilled baseball historian like his dad, and
highly successful fantasy baseball player.
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