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Thread: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

  1. #91
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    foster who was better pat corrales or vic correll I've got to know!!!!!!!!!!!


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  3. #92
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Quote Originally Posted by Bruce Berenyi View Post
    foster who was better pat corrales or vic correll I've got to know!!!!!!!!!!!
    The one that caught George Culver's no-hitter.

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    Strategery RFS62's Avatar
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Growing up in West Virginia, a chance to see a major league baseball game in person was the Holy Grail. I was thinking recently about how magical an experience it was when I finally got to see a major league game.

    We actually lived in the back of a 100 year old wood frame building, formerly a train station. It was my grandfathers country store, very similar to Sam Drucker's General Store on Green Acres and Petticoat Junction. It was a dry goods store, a grocery store, the post office, and my grandfather and grandmothers home all in one building, I guess about 3,000 sf all together.

    It was 50 feet from the railroad tracks on the Norfolk and Western's main
    line. When a train went by, the house shook, pictures rattled on the walls, you couldn't hear the TV set. But I thought the whole world was like that, and I actually thought we were wealthy, as we had a car and owned a business in this little town of 150 in the farthest backwoods of West Virginia.

    After becoming totally addicted to baseball as a 6 year old, my mom, the only single mother anyone knew back in the day, saved all her money for what I now know to be quite some time to take my brother and I to Cincinnati to see my beloved Reds.

    We actually whistle stopped the train behind the house, the N&W Pohattan Arrow, which ran from Norfolk to Cincinnati. You stood out by the tracks with your suitcase and flagged it down, and they stopped.

    For a 9 year old kid who had never been 50 miles from home, everything about the experience was magical. The train ride took about six hours, I believe. And the scenery was beautiful, a fantastic way to travel.

    So many things about the trip are still ingrained in my memory. When we got to Union Station in Cincinnati, I thought I had landed in Oz.

    We took a taxi to downtown Cincinnati and stayed at the old Sheraton. Everything about it was mesmerizing. Buildings the likes of which I'd only seen on TV. The buzz of the city. I thought I was in Manhattan, relative to where I lived.

    Then the long awaited day arrived. We took a bus to Crosley Field, the equivalent of a pilgrimage to Mecca in my mind. I was beside myself with excitement.

    We passed through the turnstiles, into the concourse and made our way to our section's portal.

    The next memory I have from that trip is one which I've drawn on many times in my life. As we walked up the ramp towards the usher and stepped out of the portal and saw the vast expanse of the field, the brilliant green of the grass, the crowd, the bleachers, the players on the field taking batting practice, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I stood there in amazement for a moment, just taking it all in, without a doubt the happiest moment of my life.

    I really don't remember much about the game, other than Frank Robinson made a really nice sliding catch on a tough chance and my hero, Johnny Edwards, had a couple of hits.

    But I'll never forget that first step through the portal into a world I had only dared to dream about, a world I have loved every day since then.

    Now, every time I go to a game, no matter who I'm with, I do the same thing. I go to the nearest portal once I get in the gate and stand there, taking in the field, and thinking about that day.

    I stand there and think about the things that are good and decent in the world, and the childlike wonder that sports can bring out in all of us. I think about how much I loved playing and still miss it so badly. I think about the wonderful experiences I've had in baseball over the years and how much joy it gave me to take my son to his first game.

    And most of all, I think about the sacrifices my single mother had to make to take us there, our only vacation of the year, and she picked something she knew I loved. It was just a weekend series, but it meant the world to me.
    Ban pre-shredded cheese. Make America grate again.

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  6. #94
    Member Rojo Rijo's Avatar
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    June 20th 1991 at Riverfront. Expos beat Reds 1-0 in the 11th inning. I was 7.

    Dennis Martinez retired the first 17 hitters he faced until Jose Rijo singled off of him in the 6th inning. Rijo then broke his ankle attempting to steal second base. Marquis Grissom singled home the winning run in the 11th.

    Rijo threw 6, gave up 2 hits, walked 1, and struck out 8.
    Martinez threw 8, gave up 2 hits, walked 1, and struck out 4.

    As you can imagine for a 7 year old kid the game lacked the excitement one would have desired. As I grow older I realize how great of a game I was able to witness.

    Also Jose Rijo is probably my second favorite Reds player of my lifetime behind Barry Larkin and I go to see both of them that day. I've seen Votto, Griffey, heck I've even stood 10 feet away from a 23 year old Aroldis Chapman warming up in Durham but that 1991 game will always be my best in person baseball memory.
    Last edited by Rojo Rijo; 11-17-2020 at 10:23 AM.

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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    July 1st, 2010......Wrigley Field......I was 59.....Reds won 3-2

    July 4th, 2010......Wrigley......Leake pitches......Reds win 14-3....wind was blowing out......first of 5 Leake starts I have attended

    GO SUNDEVIL BASEBALL

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  10. #96
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Quote Originally Posted by RFS62 View Post
    Growing up in West Virginia, a chance to see a major league baseball game in person was the Holy Grail. I was thinking recently about how magical an experience it was when I finally got to see a major league game.

    We actually lived in the back of a 100 year old wood frame building, formerly a train station. It was my grandfathers country store, very similar to Sam Drucker's General Store on Green Acres and Petticoat Junction. It was a dry goods store, a grocery store, the post office, and my grandfather and grandmothers home all in one building, I guess about 3,000 sf all together.

    It was 50 feet from the railroad tracks on the Norfolk and Western's main
    line. When a train went by, the house shook, pictures rattled on the walls, you couldn't hear the TV set. But I thought the whole world was like that, and I actually thought we were wealthy, as we had a car and owned a business in this little town of 150 in the farthest backwoods of West Virginia.

    After becoming totally addicted to baseball as a 6 year old, my mom, the only single mother anyone knew back in the day, saved all her money for what I now know to be quite some time to take my brother and I to Cincinnati to see my beloved Reds.

    We actually whistle stopped the train behind the house, the N&W Pohattan Arrow, which ran from Norfolk to Cincinnati. You stood out by the tracks with your suitcase and flagged it down, and they stopped.

    For a 9 year old kid who had never been 50 miles from home, everything about the experience was magical. The train ride took about six hours, I believe. And the scenery was beautiful, a fantastic way to travel.

    So many things about the trip are still ingrained in my memory. When we got to Union Station in Cincinnati, I thought I had landed in Oz.

    We took a taxi to downtown Cincinnati and stayed at the old Sheraton. Everything about it was mesmerizing. Buildings the likes of which I'd only seen on TV. The buzz of the city. I thought I was in Manhattan, relative to where I lived.

    Then the long awaited day arrived. We took a bus to Crosley Field, the equivalent of a pilgrimage to Mecca in my mind. I was beside myself with excitement.

    We passed through the turnstiles, into the concourse and made our way to our section's portal.

    The next memory I have from that trip is one which I've drawn on many times in my life. As we walked up the ramp towards the usher and stepped out of the portal and saw the vast expanse of the field, the brilliant green of the grass, the crowd, the bleachers, the players on the field taking batting practice, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I stood there in amazement for a moment, just taking it all in, without a doubt the happiest moment of my life.

    I really don't remember much about the game, other than Frank Robinson made a really nice sliding catch on a tough chance and my hero, Johnny Edwards, had a couple of hits.

    But I'll never forget that first step through the portal into a world I had only dared to dream about, a world I have loved every day since then.

    Now, every time I go to a game, no matter who I'm with, I do the same thing. I go to the nearest portal once I get in the gate and stand there, taking in the field, and thinking about that day.

    I stand there and think about the things that are good and decent in the world, and the childlike wonder that sports can bring out in all of us. I think about how much I loved playing and still miss it so badly. I think about the wonderful experiences I've had in baseball over the years and how much joy it gave me to take my son to his first game.

    And most of all, I think about the sacrifices my single mother had to make to take us there, our only vacation of the year, and she picked something she knew I loved. It was just a weekend series, but it meant the world to me.
    All that and I still don't know when, or who they played and who won by what score.

    Seriously though, that was a great read and an original perspective. Thanks for the post.

  11. #97
    Member Ron Madden's Avatar
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Quote Originally Posted by RFS62 View Post
    Growing up in West Virginia, a chance to see a major league baseball game in person was the Holy Grail. I was thinking recently about how magical an experience it was when I finally got to see a major league game.

    We actually lived in the back of a 100 year old wood frame building, formerly a train station. It was my grandfathers country store, very similar to Sam Drucker's General Store on Green Acres and Petticoat Junction. It was a dry goods store, a grocery store, the post office, and my grandfather and grandmothers home all in one building, I guess about 3,000 sf all together.

    It was 50 feet from the railroad tracks on the Norfolk and Western's main
    line. When a train went by, the house shook, pictures rattled on the walls, you couldn't hear the TV set. But I thought the whole world was like that, and I actually thought we were wealthy, as we had a car and owned a business in this little town of 150 in the farthest backwoods of West Virginia.

    After becoming totally addicted to baseball as a 6 year old, my mom, the only single mother anyone knew back in the day, saved all her money for what I now know to be quite some time to take my brother and I to Cincinnati to see my beloved Reds.

    We actually whistle stopped the train behind the house, the N&W Pohattan Arrow, which ran from Norfolk to Cincinnati. You stood out by the tracks with your suitcase and flagged it down, and they stopped.

    For a 9 year old kid who had never been 50 miles from home, everything about the experience was magical. The train ride took about six hours, I believe. And the scenery was beautiful, a fantastic way to travel.

    So many things about the trip are still ingrained in my memory. When we got to Union Station in Cincinnati, I thought I had landed in Oz.

    We took a taxi to downtown Cincinnati and stayed at the old Sheraton. Everything about it was mesmerizing. Buildings the likes of which I'd only seen on TV. The buzz of the city. I thought I was in Manhattan, relative to where I lived.

    Then the long awaited day arrived. We took a bus to Crosley Field, the equivalent of a pilgrimage to Mecca in my mind. I was beside myself with excitement.

    We passed through the turnstiles, into the concourse and made our way to our section's portal.

    The next memory I have from that trip is one which I've drawn on many times in my life. As we walked up the ramp towards the usher and stepped out of the portal and saw the vast expanse of the field, the brilliant green of the grass, the crowd, the bleachers, the players on the field taking batting practice, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I stood there in amazement for a moment, just taking it all in, without a doubt the happiest moment of my life.

    I really don't remember much about the game, other than Frank Robinson made a really nice sliding catch on a tough chance and my hero, Johnny Edwards, had a couple of hits.

    But I'll never forget that first step through the portal into a world I had only dared to dream about, a world I have loved every day since then.

    Now, every time I go to a game, no matter who I'm with, I do the same thing. I go to the nearest portal once I get in the gate and stand there, taking in the field, and thinking about that day.

    I stand there and think about the things that are good and decent in the world, and the childlike wonder that sports can bring out in all of us. I think about how much I loved playing and still miss it so badly. I think about the wonderful experiences I've had in baseball over the years and how much joy it gave me to take my son to his first game.

    And most of all, I think about the sacrifices my single mother had to make to take us there, our only vacation of the year, and she picked something she knew I loved. It was just a weekend series, but it meant the world to me.
    What a great description of a wonderful memory! Thank You RFS62.

    Old Union Terminal the train station is now a museum.

  12. #98
    Member RedsfaninMT's Avatar
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    As I mentioned before, I attended only 1 game at Crosley in 1969 at the ripe age of 7. However, I was going through a scrap album, deciding whether to sell autographed photos of Brock, Seaver and Aaron (my son thinks paint drying is more exciting than any sport...particularly baseball.) and I saved a ticket stub from the 1975 World Series Game 4...red seats, row 15 for $10. Imagine $10 for getting to see your team host a world series game. Alas, Luis Tiant got the "w" that day. I hope you all get to experience the Reds in a Series yourselves!

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  14. #99
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Quote Originally Posted by RedsfaninMT View Post
    As I mentioned before, I attended only 1 game at Crosley in 1969 at the ripe age of 7. However, I was going through a scrap album, deciding whether to sell autographed photos of Brock, Seaver and Aaron (my son thinks paint drying is more exciting than any sport...particularly baseball.) and I saved a ticket stub from the 1975 World Series Game 4...red seats, row 15 for $10. Imagine $10 for getting to see your team host a world series game. Alas, Luis Tiant got the "w" that day. I hope you all get to experience the Reds in a Series yourselves!
    You let the Bosox tie the series so I had to go to the next game and get our beloved Reds the series lead again. Straight away CF where both of Doggy's homers disappeared from view before going over left centerfield wall. His first 2 hits of the series in game 5. Also went to game 2 in 1970 and game 1 in 1990.

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  16. #100
    Big Red Machine RedsBaron's Avatar
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Quote Originally Posted by RFS62 View Post
    Growing up in West Virginia, a chance to see a major league baseball game in person was the Holy Grail. I was thinking recently about how magical an experience it was when I finally got to see a major league game.

    We actually lived in the back of a 100 year old wood frame building, formerly a train station. It was my grandfathers country store, very similar to Sam Drucker's General Store on Green Acres and Petticoat Junction. It was a dry goods store, a grocery store, the post office, and my grandfather and grandmothers home all in one building, I guess about 3,000 sf all together.

    It was 50 feet from the railroad tracks on the Norfolk and Western's main
    line. When a train went by, the house shook, pictures rattled on the walls, you couldn't hear the TV set. But I thought the whole world was like that, and I actually thought we were wealthy, as we had a car and owned a business in this little town of 150 in the farthest backwoods of West Virginia.

    After becoming totally addicted to baseball as a 6 year old, my mom, the only single mother anyone knew back in the day, saved all her money for what I now know to be quite some time to take my brother and I to Cincinnati to see my beloved Reds.

    We actually whistle stopped the train behind the house, the N&W Pohattan Arrow, which ran from Norfolk to Cincinnati. You stood out by the tracks with your suitcase and flagged it down, and they stopped.

    For a 9 year old kid who had never been 50 miles from home, everything about the experience was magical. The train ride took about six hours, I believe. And the scenery was beautiful, a fantastic way to travel.

    So many things about the trip are still ingrained in my memory. When we got to Union Station in Cincinnati, I thought I had landed in Oz.

    We took a taxi to downtown Cincinnati and stayed at the old Sheraton. Everything about it was mesmerizing. Buildings the likes of which I'd only seen on TV. The buzz of the city. I thought I was in Manhattan, relative to where I lived.

    Then the long awaited day arrived. We took a bus to Crosley Field, the equivalent of a pilgrimage to Mecca in my mind. I was beside myself with excitement.

    We passed through the turnstiles, into the concourse and made our way to our section's portal.

    The next memory I have from that trip is one which I've drawn on many times in my life. As we walked up the ramp towards the usher and stepped out of the portal and saw the vast expanse of the field, the brilliant green of the grass, the crowd, the bleachers, the players on the field taking batting practice, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I stood there in amazement for a moment, just taking it all in, without a doubt the happiest moment of my life.

    I really don't remember much about the game, other than Frank Robinson made a really nice sliding catch on a tough chance and my hero, Johnny Edwards, had a couple of hits.

    But I'll never forget that first step through the portal into a world I had only dared to dream about, a world I have loved every day since then.

    Now, every time I go to a game, no matter who I'm with, I do the same thing. I go to the nearest portal once I get in the gate and stand there, taking in the field, and thinking about that day.

    I stand there and think about the things that are good and decent in the world, and the childlike wonder that sports can bring out in all of us. I think about how much I loved playing and still miss it so badly. I think about the wonderful experiences I've had in baseball over the years and how much joy it gave me to take my son to his first game.

    And most of all, I think about the sacrifices my single mother had to make to take us there, our only vacation of the year, and she picked something she knew I loved. It was just a weekend series, but it meant the world to me.
    A terrific, wonderful post.
    "Hey...Dad. Wanna Have A Catch?" Kevin Costner in "Field Of Dreams."

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  18. #101
    breath westofyou's Avatar
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Quote Originally Posted by RFS62 View Post
    Growing up in West Virginia, a chance to see a major league baseball game in person was the Holy Grail. I was thinking recently about how magical an experience it was when I finally got to see a major league game.

    We actually lived in the back of a 100 year old wood frame building, formerly a train station. It was my grandfathers country store, very similar to Sam Drucker's General Store on Green Acres and Petticoat Junction. It was a dry goods store, a grocery store, the post office, and my grandfather and grandmothers home all in one building, I guess about 3,000 sf all together.

    It was 50 feet from the railroad tracks on the Norfolk and Western's main
    line. When a train went by, the house shook, pictures rattled on the walls, you couldn't hear the TV set. But I thought the whole world was like that, and I actually thought we were wealthy, as we had a car and owned a business in this little town of 150 in the farthest backwoods of West Virginia.

    After becoming totally addicted to baseball as a 6 year old, my mom, the only single mother anyone knew back in the day, saved all her money for what I now know to be quite some time to take my brother and I to Cincinnati to see my beloved Reds.

    We actually whistle stopped the train behind the house, the N&W Pohattan Arrow, which ran from Norfolk to Cincinnati. You stood out by the tracks with your suitcase and flagged it down, and they stopped.

    For a 9 year old kid who had never been 50 miles from home, everything about the experience was magical. The train ride took about six hours, I believe. And the scenery was beautiful, a fantastic way to travel.

    So many things about the trip are still ingrained in my memory. When we got to Union Station in Cincinnati, I thought I had landed in Oz.

    We took a taxi to downtown Cincinnati and stayed at the old Sheraton. Everything about it was mesmerizing. Buildings the likes of which I'd only seen on TV. The buzz of the city. I thought I was in Manhattan, relative to where I lived.

    Then the long awaited day arrived. We took a bus to Crosley Field, the equivalent of a pilgrimage to Mecca in my mind. I was beside myself with excitement.

    We passed through the turnstiles, into the concourse and made our way to our section's portal.

    The next memory I have from that trip is one which I've drawn on many times in my life. As we walked up the ramp towards the usher and stepped out of the portal and saw the vast expanse of the field, the brilliant green of the grass, the crowd, the bleachers, the players on the field taking batting practice, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I stood there in amazement for a moment, just taking it all in, without a doubt the happiest moment of my life.

    I really don't remember much about the game, other than Frank Robinson made a really nice sliding catch on a tough chance and my hero, Johnny Edwards, had a couple of hits.

    But I'll never forget that first step through the portal into a world I had only dared to dream about, a world I have loved every day since then.

    Now, every time I go to a game, no matter who I'm with, I do the same thing. I go to the nearest portal once I get in the gate and stand there, taking in the field, and thinking about that day.

    I stand there and think about the things that are good and decent in the world, and the childlike wonder that sports can bring out in all of us. I think about how much I loved playing and still miss it so badly. I think about the wonderful experiences I've had in baseball over the years and how much joy it gave me to take my son to his first game.

    And most of all, I think about the sacrifices my single mother had to make to take us there, our only vacation of the year, and she picked something she knew I loved. It was just a weekend series, but it meant the world to me.
    The Portal is something else, in all that concrete and aged steel you walk through a tunnel with sweaty walls and boom it hits you in the face, so green. My first was Tiger Stadium so everything was blue and green, smelled like stale beer and cigars. I later experienced the same thing for a Lions game there, except it was grey and snowing and as you left the tunnel the wind howled and guys with sideburns and corduroy coats with fake lamb fur collars were everywhere and the field was wedged into your favorite baseball field looking odd with the huge sidelines and the cramped endzones

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  20. #102
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    did you see nick pietrosante or night train lane

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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Quote Originally Posted by Bruce Berenyi View Post
    did you see nick pietrosante or night train lane
    Lem Barney and Charlie Sanders

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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    greg landry

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    breath westofyou's Avatar
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    Re: When/Where Did You Attend Your First Reds Game? How Old Were You?

    Quote Originally Posted by Bruce Berenyi View Post
    greg landry
    Bill Munson was my little league coach, I got to go the training camp and meet the whole team

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