1975. I will never forget walking through that tunnel and seeing the green field. Awe inspiring for a little kid and spending time with Dad. I miss him.
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1975. I will never forget walking through that tunnel and seeing the green field. Awe inspiring for a little kid and spending time with Dad. I miss him.
August 23, 1977- First MLB game. Reds lost to the Expos 4-2. The significance of this game though was the indelible impression made by the souvenirs at the game on an 8 year old experiencing their first exposure to the game of baseball. More specifically, the pennant which read 'World Champions'.
From that experience two love affairs were born- one for baseball and the other, for the 'World Champion' Cincinnati Reds.
September 11 1985
Pete Rose gets 4192. I remember most of it but it was just so electric with crying, yelling, etc. A real moment in time for me.
I'm sad to say I cannot remember what my first game was, or how old I was at the time.
I do, however, remember walking into Riverfront stadium, peering down to the field and being in complete awe. The rest of my memories are kind of a blur, up until I was older.
I was lucky enough to live in Dayton during the days of the big red machine. I remember seeing a game in 75 or 76 against the Dodgers.
Most of my real memories were in the 77 and 78 seasons, especially the year Foster hit 50+. Those were magical times in southern ohio.
July, 7th 2003 at Minute Made. I met an older couple (very nice) who kept telling me that Dunn was the next big thing, which I played along to humor them. I let them know Griffey was my favorite player. They stayed quite as he went o-for.
Some guy was in the stands screaming at Griffey every at bat and in the field, the funny thing was he said he hated baseball, and was only there for free tickets. The older gentleman asked him to be quite, but he kept going. I eventually went and got security and he was asked to leave.
I have been to Minute Made many times, and everyone at the games seems to love to talk baseball no matter who you root for. I guess one bad see always ruins a group.
June, 1972. My father-in-law was a buddy of Smokey Alston's and we went down to see the Dodgers with tickets from Alston. Smokey lived in Darrtown, a few miles from Oxford. What I remember most is that my hot-head f-i-l nearly got into a fight while exiting the stadium garage. Some guy pulled out in front of us and the wife's old man was out of the car with his fists up.