Stardust Memories
I spent the very first impressionable years of my life living in Birmingham, Alabama. The very first sporting event I ever remember going to was a University of Alabama Crimson Tide football game. My uncle Gary, a UA grad and stereotypical and text-book redneck Southerner, was the one to take me. It was the largest spectacle. I remember him asking him why people dressed in their church clothes (suits).
"Michael, this is their church," was his response.
This childhood memory serves as the reason why I love Alabama football and continue to follow them. Another memory I have about my early childhood also deals with my Uncle Gary.
He had this little red MG. He asked me if I wanted to go to a Braves game at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium. Growing up where I did, I always watched Braves baseball on TBS. Him asking me if I wanted to go to a Braves game was like asking a fat kid if he wanted ice cream. Of course I wanted to go! We drove to a memorabilia store and bought an "official" baseball to take to the game so that I could get some autographs. In true Uncle Gary fashion, though, we had to make a stop before the game. We drove to his job, that I found out on the way that he worked that day, a construction site, where he walked in and just quit. He quit. That day. He came back and we were off to Atlanta. We got to watch the Braves take on the St. Louis Cardinals. I remember watching Ozzie Smith take the field. To my, and the other 2,500 people there, delight he even did the flips when he took the field. I don't remember what the score was but I most certainly remember the Braves losing (that was the case those days). We had seats behind home plate in the upper deck. It was magical. I remember cheering and yelling and screaming all I could for when the announcer would call Dale Murphy's name. He was my favorite Brave. He always was the once getting the big hits, the great catches, and the humble heroics.
After the game, we didn't just leave. We waited outside the players tunnel. I wanted Dale Murphy's autograph, badly. We waited. And waited. Slowly the crowds started to leave. Gary even asked a security guard about whether Dale Murphy was coming out. The guard told Gary that "Mr. Murphy has already left." Gary didn't believe him. We continued to wait. No players ever came out that way though. With blank ball and pen in hand we started walking back to the little red MG. Uncle Gary stopped and said,
"Michael! Look there!" He didn't need to tell me who it was...it was Braves catcher Ozzie Virgil! He was just randomly talking to some dudes by a car.
"Go get his autograph!" he barked.
I quietly worked my way towards him and he continued to talk to his acquaintances. I held the ball tightly in my hands and moved closer to him. Without missing a beat, a stutter of a word, or even a glance downward, he reached down grabbed the ball and pen and signed his name. He didn't say a word to me let alone look at me.
And it was the coolest fucking thing to have happened to me.
I had OZZIE VIRGIL'S AUTOGRAPH!!!!!!
I never did get Dale Murphy's autograph. But that day I always remember. Walking silently to a Braves star in hopes that he would sign the ball so that I could cherish it forever. Baseball has always been a part of my life. I used to sneak out to the living room after my parents had put me to bed, turn on the soothing voice of Skip Carey, bring my pillow outside of my doorway where I had a perfect view of the television and fall asleep watching "America's Team." I played baseball 3 seasons down there. Even after we moved back to Minnesota, I continued to play and watch baseball. I even found a new team to love, the Minnesota Twins. During the mid 90's the Twins were sort of like the Braves of mid 80's....
real fucking shitty.
And they even had their own version of Dale Murphy who every child wanted to be like, run and jump and rob a homerun in centerfield, and whose autograph everybody wanted - Kirby Puckett.
As much as I love college hockey, and trust me...I know you know I love college hockey, baseball has always been a part of my life. From my early childhood days nervously approaching Ozzie Virgil to today...watching the Twins with
nezbabe, celebrating their 5-1 victory over the Yankees.
Baseball just isn't the National Pastime, it's my life's pastime. The more I watch it, the more I remember.
"Michael, this is their church," was his response.
This childhood memory serves as the reason why I love Alabama football and continue to follow them. Another memory I have about my early childhood also deals with my Uncle Gary.
He had this little red MG. He asked me if I wanted to go to a Braves game at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium. Growing up where I did, I always watched Braves baseball on TBS. Him asking me if I wanted to go to a Braves game was like asking a fat kid if he wanted ice cream. Of course I wanted to go! We drove to a memorabilia store and bought an "official" baseball to take to the game so that I could get some autographs. In true Uncle Gary fashion, though, we had to make a stop before the game. We drove to his job, that I found out on the way that he worked that day, a construction site, where he walked in and just quit. He quit. That day. He came back and we were off to Atlanta. We got to watch the Braves take on the St. Louis Cardinals. I remember watching Ozzie Smith take the field. To my, and the other 2,500 people there, delight he even did the flips when he took the field. I don't remember what the score was but I most certainly remember the Braves losing (that was the case those days). We had seats behind home plate in the upper deck. It was magical. I remember cheering and yelling and screaming all I could for when the announcer would call Dale Murphy's name. He was my favorite Brave. He always was the once getting the big hits, the great catches, and the humble heroics.
After the game, we didn't just leave. We waited outside the players tunnel. I wanted Dale Murphy's autograph, badly. We waited. And waited. Slowly the crowds started to leave. Gary even asked a security guard about whether Dale Murphy was coming out. The guard told Gary that "Mr. Murphy has already left." Gary didn't believe him. We continued to wait. No players ever came out that way though. With blank ball and pen in hand we started walking back to the little red MG. Uncle Gary stopped and said,
"Michael! Look there!" He didn't need to tell me who it was...it was Braves catcher Ozzie Virgil! He was just randomly talking to some dudes by a car.
"Go get his autograph!" he barked.
I quietly worked my way towards him and he continued to talk to his acquaintances. I held the ball tightly in my hands and moved closer to him. Without missing a beat, a stutter of a word, or even a glance downward, he reached down grabbed the ball and pen and signed his name. He didn't say a word to me let alone look at me.
And it was the coolest fucking thing to have happened to me.
I had OZZIE VIRGIL'S AUTOGRAPH!!!!!!
I never did get Dale Murphy's autograph. But that day I always remember. Walking silently to a Braves star in hopes that he would sign the ball so that I could cherish it forever. Baseball has always been a part of my life. I used to sneak out to the living room after my parents had put me to bed, turn on the soothing voice of Skip Carey, bring my pillow outside of my doorway where I had a perfect view of the television and fall asleep watching "America's Team." I played baseball 3 seasons down there. Even after we moved back to Minnesota, I continued to play and watch baseball. I even found a new team to love, the Minnesota Twins. During the mid 90's the Twins were sort of like the Braves of mid 80's....
real fucking shitty.
And they even had their own version of Dale Murphy who every child wanted to be like, run and jump and rob a homerun in centerfield, and whose autograph everybody wanted - Kirby Puckett.
As much as I love college hockey, and trust me...I know you know I love college hockey, baseball has always been a part of my life. From my early childhood days nervously approaching Ozzie Virgil to today...watching the Twins with
nezbabe, celebrating their 5-1 victory over the Yankees.
Baseball just isn't the National Pastime, it's my life's pastime. The more I watch it, the more I remember.