I was born and raised in NJ and have lived there all my life until a few months back when I retired and moved to the wonderful state of Colorado.
I’ve loved baseball for as long as I can remember, but my first real vivid memories of it are of the 1969 Miracle Mets. The first game I ever attended was in August of ’69 at Shea Stadium. The Mets beat the Braves 6-5 on a Jerry Grote walk-off HR in the 11th inning.
The euphoria and excitement of their playoff run that year and their improbable victory in the World Series over Baltimore had the whole NY metro area caught up in Mets fever and made a lifetime fan of the game out of yours’ truly.
I spent so much of my youth doing anything related to baseball – little league, stick ball, off-the-wall, running bases, collecting cards, playing Strat-O-Matic – you name it.
Every year I get a rush of excitement when Opening Day nears, or the trade deadline, or the post-season or the Winter Meetings.
I love baseball because of the feelings of stability, comfort and normalcy that it evokes. The sport is ingrained in the fabric of America and is such a huge part of its history and lore. Baseball’s iconic presence has been a part of America’s stories, songs and movies for generations. I also love baseball because it bridges cultural and social gaps. Two people with distinctly different backgrounds, beliefs, affiliations and status, who have absolutely nothing in common, can find common ground and harmony on their love for baseball.
A live baseball game is my ‘happy place’. Especially at a day game, in early Summer when it’s a little breezy and just the right temperature. Maybe a mid-week game where the crowd is decent, but not too much. Baseball. Beer. Hot Dogs. Summer. Very nice.
I recently fulfilled a bucket list item by attending a game at every major league venue.