I don't do Beaver games on thursdays...too many drunks. Thirsty Thursdays.Originally Posted by VR
I don't do Beaver games on thursdays...too many drunks. Thirsty Thursdays.Originally Posted by VR
My 1st game was at River Front while it still was River Front. I just turned 7 years old and it was the best thing in the world at the time. I attended the double hitter between the Braves and Reds on August 20th, 1991. The year after the great year. I don't remember much from the game, I remembed the Reds winning one, and losing one. Nothing about the games its self thou.
My 2nd game I attended was I believe was August 18th 95 when we had John Smiley and David Wells. Why I remember those 2 that night? Well Wells' pitched, and Smiley threw me a baseball that night.
Now, I attending a couple games a year... But those 2 games put the love of the game in me......
Last edited by RedsMan3203; 06-02-2006 at 07:24 PM.
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I think I was there as well for that one, although I was in my 20s and out of college by then. I honestly don't have a memory of my first game, but more of a scattering of memories probably pieced together from several games during the early and mid 70s. I remember always beeing in awe of the vast expanse of green, even if it was fake, and the crisp white of the uniforms. I always bood the opposition and cheered the Reds, except when Dad told me not to boo Hank Aaron. I was somewhat confused why we could boo other opposing players and not him. After Dad told me why, I at least accepted it for the moment. Only later would I realize how fortunate I was to have seen some of the players I saw in my early childhood, even the ones who weren't playing for the Reds.Originally Posted by RedsMan3203
I'm the same way, I remember various games at Crosley Field. I remember going to a game with a kid down the street and we were sitting in the upper deck and were flipping baseball cards down below us until an usher came along and told us to stop. I also remember going to games with this priest our family knew and he'd take a group of kids down and we'd sit in boxseats. The game I remember the best is the final game at Crosley. I was 13 and I went down with my two older brothers. That was a great game. A few days later, my next younger brother went to the first game at Riverfront.Originally Posted by OldRightHander
The first game I attended there was the All Star game in 1970. My folks had tickets in the red seats and my dad had someone tell him he could sit down in the blue seats with them. My mom gave me and one of my brothers the other two tickets and said they probably were the last row anyway. Yikes! Was she ever right! I remember walking out from the concourse and seeing the bright green Astroturf (Astroturf! - it was cool then) and couldn't believe this fantastic futuristic looking stadium. Little did we know how many knees that turf would destroy.
I was there too, but I'll have to admit that my memories of it aren't exactly that vivid. I was just a year old and I was there on Mom's lap because she couldn't find a babysitter.Originally Posted by redsmetz
Were you that baby I sat behind who cried the whole game? Or was that "Go Reds, Goo Goo"?Originally Posted by OldRightHander
Great topic Wheelhouse.
I've probably told this before, but if I have be real quiet because I'd like to hear it again myself.
I found Reds baseball when I was just a baby. I don't remember it, but my mother and father told me it's so. Dad was a Reds fanatic and never missed a game on radio for his entire 72 years (or so Mom said). He even had a special room in the house I was born in where he could listen without interruption.
He often talked about how frustrating it was to be a Reds fan, but the 1961 season was special. In November of 1960, we had moved into a different house. A flood had made our old home unliveable and Dad had used most all of his savings to buy this new house. For the first time in ages, he wouldn't make it to Cincinnati to see a Reds game. Prior to 1961, I was a fan, but an occasional fan, but that year I started listening to the games with Dad in a new special room. It killed Dad that he couldn't go to a game in a year the Reds finally won a pennant, but we had a good time anyway.
The summer of 1962, I was 13 years old and Dad decided it was time to go to a game. He had recovered from the cash outlay for the new house and since he worked for the railroad, he got passes to ride the train to Cincinnati, see a game and travel all night home. It was an adventure.
I'd always dreamed about Crosley Field, so when we stepped off that train in Union Terminal, all I wanted to do was get there. The train was a tad late and I was antsy, but Dad hailed a cab and we were off to the game. We got there about a half hour before the game and had what we would call field level seats today, but Dad called them box seats. We were about 4 rows up behind the Cincinnati dugout and you could see all the action so vividly. I remember how red the Reds uniforms were. In those days, when the Reds were on, it was in black and white, so you couldn't tell.
I saw Frank Robinson hit a home run and make what Dad called a circus catch in the outfield. It went too fast. It was over and I wanted to stay and just look at the ballpark. The ballpark my mind's eye had seen so often, but had only been seen on television or heard about was just as I had expected. It was old, but it was the Reds' ballpark.
We hustled back to Union Terminal to catch the train home, but we had to make a pit stop before boarding. Dad had bought me a pennant with the team picture on it, but unfortunately, my mother had laid to down when she went in there and someone had taken it. It was the only downer of the day.
Dad and I made four more of those trips before his untimely death in 1980 and I made a pledge to take my son each year at least once to a Reds game. For the first time in his life, last year we didn't go. Call it disgust or being a stubborn person, I just would not spend my money on the product the Reds put out last year. I regret it so much. Who knows how many years I'll have to take my boy to a game?
We'll be there this year.
"You only have to bat a thousand in two things; flying and heart transplants. Everything else you can go 4-for-5."
I grew up in backwoods West Virginia. The main line of the Norfolk and Western Railroad was about 30 yards from our house. Most of the time this was a bad thing, as the entire house rattled when a train went by.
But it was a very good thing when my mother, who raised my brother and I, took us to see my beloved Reds. We literally flagged down the Powhattan Arrow, the N&W's passenger train from Norfolk to Cincinnati, to pick us up for the 6 hour ride. We stood out by the tracks and flagged down the train, a whistle stop, as it was called back in the day.
The train had a bubble top section where you could sit and take in the scenery, and for a 10 year old it was magical. I'll never forget any of it, or the sacrifice that a single mother with very limited resources made to get her two boys to a game.
Union Terminal was so huge. The murals, the immensity of it all, it was other worldly.
We took a taxi to the Sheraton Hotel downtown where we stayed. The three day vacation was all my mom could afford, so we always tried for a weekend with a double-header so we could get in four games before heading back home.
We always had breakfast at Peri's Pancake House, which was close to the hotel. It's funny how so many of the the little details stick with you even all these years later. Then we'd take a bus to Crosley, which was like a pilgrimage to Mecca to me.
I always made Mom leave early enough to be there when the gates opened, so we could see infield and batting practice.
I too will never forget my first look at the field. The immaculate green scupltured carpet, and the players in those incredible uniforms. I made my way to just behind the dugout, and I remember marveling at the stitching of the numbers on the uniforms. I know how silly that sounds now, but to a 10 year old who'd never seen a professional game before, it was a surreal experience in every regard.
It was a big sacrifice for my mother to take us there for a weekend series every year for about 5 years. I didn't realize until much later how much it pushed our limited budget.
Because of her, I got to see Mays, McCovey, Marichal, Koufax, Stargill, Banks, Clemente, Rose, Bench, Perez, Maloney, Nolan, Aaron, Matthews, Spahn, Mazerowski, Allen, and many, many other stars of the 60's who I considered legends in my little world.
Don't ever underestimate the effect these images and experiences have on your kids. To this day, when I talk about baseball with my mom, I thank her for what she went through for us. She didn't give a hoot about baseball, but knew how much it meant to me.
That was our vacation every year for 5 years. A weekend in Cincy to see the greatest baseball players on earth. It may not seem like much in todays world, but it was priceless to me. I was in heaven every time I walked through that portal and saw that field.
To this day, every single time I walk into a big league park, I stop and gaze across the field and remember those days when I was a kid and we took those magical rides into Valhalla. I've been to hundreds of big league games all over America since then, and in every single one of them, I partake in that ritual.
The game is so much bigger than all the problems that we moan and groan over. The game dwarfs any indignity that Bonds or Canseco might bring upon it.
The game endures in the imagination of every 10 year old who marvels at the subtleties, even years later when it all seems like a wonderful dream.
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
~ Mark Twain