By: Jeff Barnes
In the lead up to game time at Angel Stadium they play franchise highlights from 1961 to present day. I have seen it numerous times and there is not a time I don’t get emotional. Whether it be the 2002 World Series win or one of Nolan Ryan’s no-hitters.
On Opening Day 2018, I was in attendance to see Kirk Gibson throw out the first pitch to Orel Hershiser in celebration of the 30th anniversary of the 1988 championship team.
Seeing the highlights of my two favorite teams takes me to a place in my soul where only baseball and connected memories live.
Like many passionate baseball fans, I feel like I was born with baseball imprinted in my DNA and lodged deeply in my soul. No game makes me feel the way baseball does. I remember the first plastic bat and ball as a small child and pestering my parents and grandparents to pitch to me. As I got older only my grandmother had the patience to spend countless hours throwing batting practice. She was the only one with the patience for this endeavor (she had a wicked slider). My grandfather the main catalyst in my baseball education, my understanding and love of the game would throw but after hitting the ball over the fence more than a couple of times he was done. I learned in order to maximize my time with him was to work to become more of a spray hitter. He knew the value of a homerun, but fully appreciated the value of a single, or a gapper for 2 or 3 bases. He was a fan of the game he grew up with, more than the power game that started to emerge more in my youth.
I was on my way to 6 years old when I made it to my first MLB game on August 21, 1971. Angels vs. Yankees at the Big A. Tom Murphy vs. Stan Bahnsen. Jim Fregosi at short, Mickey Rivers in center, Sandy Alomar at second for the Angels. Felipe Alou, Bobby Murcer, Roy White and a 24-year-old catcher in his 3rd season, Thurman Munson, in the Yankees lineup that day. When I think about that game, I can still see where we were sitting. I remember we walked up to the box office and got 3 tickets on the field level; I wish it was still that easy. The Angels won 2-1 and would sweep the Yanks that series. What I remember about that game was not the game details as much as I remember the excitement. I felt I had to be there with the two biggest influences in my life. My father and my grandfather.
A couple of years later I got to experience a game at Chavez Ravine with the same 2 icons. Once again, we walked up to the ticket booth/kiosks on game day and scored good seats. The Dodgers squeaked past the Reds. Pete Rose was still playing left field, Johnny Bench the anchor behind the plate. The Big Red Machine were beginning to take shape. Bill Buckner manned 1st base while Don Sutton tossed 8 and 2/3’s for the Dodgers. Once again, the biggest thing was sharing this experience with my Dad and Grandpa.
MLB was not as easily accessible in my youth on TV. I listened to most games on the radio. Many of those in my Grandfather’s garage on his transistor radio. We would play pool and listen to Vin Scully or Dick Enberg paint the picture of the game, bringing it to life. In between Grandpa would explain a play or why it was important a player did what they did. He would also share stories of players of the past and going to see the Dodgers at the L.A. Coliseum when they first moved to Los Angeles. He instilled in me the history of the game and the importance to fully appreciate what the game means.
While all those things tied me to the game on varying levels, the true bindings came from playing the game and seeing the difference in feelings about baseball compared to other sports. I am still able to feel the bat as it connected to a pitch for a solid hit. There is a feeling of oneness from your shoulders through your arms and then your hands to the bat that I can remember vividly but cannot really describe. It is like when you feel your absolute best, electric and unstoppable on an infinite scale. And then that first step down the line, next thing you are rounding first.
I was lucky enough to have coaches and a Dad that knew better than I did where I should play. I wanted to play 1st base because my favorite player was Steve Garvey. Nolan Ryan was my other favorite, but I learned early on pitching was not my strength. My coaches played me everywhere but 1st, and I may have caught once. Because of that I gained an appreciation for every position. Especially the outfield. I loved to run down balls in the outfield, feeling the ball settle into the webbing of my glove, stealing a hit from the batter was just as an electric feeling as hitting. In my last year of little league, I finally got to play 1st base and once again feel that feeling of galactic satisfaction as the ball settled into my glove, whether digging out of the dirt, stretching out or extending up to snag the ball and break the runner’s heart. As I write this, I remember that feeling of snagging a line shot and doubling up the surprised baserunner. To this day, I can remember the feel of these things as I watch games.
As I got older and participated in other sports, I saw the impact of baseball on the world. In high school certain kids went out for football, some for basketball, or both. But on the first day of baseball practice almost everyone in school came out. Those who didn’t feel they could compete in the other sports came out for baseball. Unlike football or basketball size is not a huge factor for baseball. Tall or short, thin or thick. It is a game that everyone felt they had a chance to play. Usually within the first week many had fallen off, more because of not wanting to do the conditioning or maybe competing now with others of better ability. A different feeling than little league. They still felt confident enough in their skills to come try out. Baseball, the game, did not discriminate.
Baseball stirs emotion in me that no other sport does. It speaks to me at a deeper level. It is more than the memories it evokes. It is a thread the runs through my entire life, bonding me to my Grandfather, to my Dad & Mom, my uncle, my sister, and a couple of friends in a way nothing else ever has.