Several people have reached out to me over the past few days, surprised that I didn’t write a Father’s Day column last week. The truth is, I wanted to wait a week, for reasons I’ll explain below, and this decision has probably turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as you can probably see.
I decided to wait, because next Saturday would mark exactly 50 years since I went to my first baseball game. I was 7 years old. Of course, my dad took me, and we did what we did every time we went to a Mets game: We parked at my grandmother’s house on 51st Street in Corona, she made me some sandwiches to take home, and we walked the few blocks to Shea Stadium.
That was June 29, 1974. Now, I don’t know where my wallet is. The status of my iPhone is unclear. My car keys? 50/50. But I can store and relive every moment of that day in my memory as if I were watching a home video.
From the moment Thea came into view, I don’t think I even blinked: its sheer size, the strange orange and blue tiles plastered randomly on the outside, and the dazzling green of the lawn inside. We took our seats. Since it was Old Timers Day at Thea, we’d arrived early, and my dad began telling me everything he thought I needed to know.
“That’s the dugout.”
“That’s the bullpen.”
“That’s the batting cage.”
“We wrap a tarp around it and store it there.”
“That’s the press box.”
That’s one of the reasons it was important to me to write about it this week. My response to that question was, “What’s a press box?” He explained that it was where sports reporters went to write about the games they were about to watch. This is true. My father commuted into the city from Long Island every day. He bought the Daily News every morning, and the Post (then an evening paper) every night when he got home. And starting the following Monday, for the next 11 years, he would come home and hand me the Post, and I would absorb every word.
By that first Thursday, I declared over dinner, “When I grow up, I want to be a sports columnist for the New York Post.” And I swear this is true.
So when I sometimes say I have my dream job…I mean it. Ever since I was 7 years old.
Another unforgettable thing that happened that day was when Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Duke Snider and Willie Mays walked out of center field together at the end of the Old Timers introductions. It was a mind-blowing moment. I had never heard a sound as loud as the cheers that rang out at Old Shey. But then I turned to face my dad and saw something I had never seen before.
He was crying.
“I’m not sad,” he said. “In fact, the opposite. These kids were the backbone of my childhood.”
He then explained, “Joe D. was his all-time favorite and always will be. And he explained why. He admired Mickey. He admired the Duke.”
“But Willie was, in my opinion, the greatest player of all time, or at least the greatest player that I ever saw in person,” he said.
The game? Well, Cleon Jones and Wayne Garrett hit home runs and the Mets won, 4-0. John Matlack was limited to just one hit, a single off of opposing pitcher John Curtis.
“You have no idea what you’re about to see,” my father said, shaking his head as we walked back to my grandmother’s house.
“I guess we’ll see about it,” I said.
(Spoiler alert: I’ve been to roughly 5,000 baseball games over the past 50 years, and I ran up to the press box for the final inning of Johan Santana’s no-hitter. I haven’t seen the whole thing yet, and it’s getting dark early here.)
50 years. The funny thing is, I wanted to include a photo of the ticket stub I still have, but it’s permanently affixed to a scrapbook with no way to remove it without tearing it. What you see here is exactly that. I’ll just have to make do with it. After all, we need to pay our respects to our most sacred relics, no matter what the cost.
Vax Wax
Donald Sutherland made every movie he was in (and there were many) 15% better just by being in it, and like Alan Alda, he was Hawkeye Pierce. Best of luck to one of the great actors.
The area usually gets to enjoy the Harlem Globetrotters once a year, but this time, following in the footsteps of Billy Joel, the Globetrotters will be hosting a sports residency at the American Dream from August 16th to 25th. With matches, clinics for kids and adults, and the chance to learn about their history from legends like “Sweet” Lou Dunbar, it feels like a nice end-of-summer gift for all of us.
Having read Presumed Innocent (and loved it), and seen the movie (and loved it even more), I was hesitant to approach Apple TV+’s eight-episode interpretation of the series, but after three episodes, the plot had already been expanded so much that it was unclear who the killer was, and the performances from Jake Gyllenhaal, Peter Sarsgaard, Ruth Negga and Bill Camp were so good that I was hooked.
My friends Chris Russo and Ed Randall will be hosting what’s sure to be a fun discussion and Q&A session this Tuesday at 7:30pm at the SVA Theatre, 333 W. 23rd St. Proceeds will benefit Fans for the Cure, a nonprofit that promotes prostate cancer awareness and education. Tickets are $35. For more information, email info@fansforthecure.org.
Counterattack against Vac
Jonathan Siegel: In his honor, every team should play “Talking Baseball” and John Fogerty’s Willie Mays ode “Centerfield” at their next game. Maybe the number 24 should be retired across baseball.
Vac: I’m going to start. Coach, make me the starter. I’m ready to play. Today. Look at me. I can be in center field.
James Vespe: Life is about timing, and that’s beyond our control. If Willie Mays had been born 30 years later, he would have been the highest paid baseball player of all time. But if he had been born 30 years earlier, he would never have played a single inning in the major leagues.
Vac: Very moving. And so true.
@jeffreymamo: This is why Leon Rose gets such a key position, and as a fan, I will forever wonder what would have happened if the Knicks had stayed healthy without him bringing the team back with everyone healthy.
Mike Vack: I don’t think this is an isolated opinion.
Walter Nicholson: I’m so glad Jerry West won an NBA title as a player. Going 0-9 in the Finals would have been a terrible fate for such a great player. I think the basketball gods rewarded him by sending us Shaq and Kobe as executives.
Vac: Not to mention Magic, Kareem and James Worthy.
