And I'd let that be my final answer. He was a guy always looking for a fight and I knew deep down he didn't have the character to be a Detroit Tigers Fan...it does take character to love a crappy baseball team. Trust me. But anger isn't apart of the baseball fan's repetoire...leave that for football fans..Lions fans...Bengals fans. We as baseball fans have constant hope...and when that runs out...good weather and cold beer.
But there are so many reasons to love baseball. Yes, the arrival of spring and summer is great. It's a liesurly game that allows your mind to wander-something that helps this girl out. Plus, the fact you get to see the hot men's faces it an obvious bonus. But why do I love it?
It's in my blood.
My mother and father grew up watching baseball at Crosley Field. Growing up I'd hear stories of the Penny games and sitting in Burgerville (right field) and how players used to always catch the ball with two hands..."Fundamentals...not that jive ass crap they play now"...(a quote brought to you by Tom Gaither, the ultimate sports curmudgeon). Even with the most recent playoff birth, I heard a new story about how Dad came home the night they clinched in 1975 with a babysitter and took Mom downtown to be among the fans. And my grandmother, whom I never had an opportunity to meet, called extra innings, "Free Baseball". (This of course was in an era when there was no last call at the stadiums, but I love her position on this). I know more about my grandparents affinity for baseball than I do about their first jobs. It connects me to a past that I long to understand. It's my heritage to love these boys.
Additionally, my brother, 10 years older than me, had the pleasure of watching The Big Red Machine as a little boy. Could you imagine learning about a sport and knowing that the best of the best were yours? Only knowing greatness? I grew up in the 80s with the great Reds such as...Tom Hume, Keefe Cato, Tom Browning, Pete Rose...okay so the last two were good...okay great. But the point is this. My brother LOVES baseball. LOVES LOVES LOVES it. Know how much I love it? He loves it a million times more and as an accountant can tell you the batting averages of most modern players and all the Big Red Machine. And since I was often sent out of the house to play with my brother-I grew up playing baseball in the back yard. Wiffle ball actually, but as I took my bat I would have to announce which player I was. As a result I "had" to know the Reds line up and stay in tune with the trades. Imagine an 8 year old following transactions to keep up with her wiffle ball. But I did. And growing up out back pretending that I was Hal Morris...something just stuck.
Then it happened. 1990. I was 9. The reds were good. Ne, they were great. I remember listening to the games in the summer with the windows open and with Marty's "This one Belongs to the Reds"...Mom and I would run out to the porch to listen for the fireworks to confirm that we did win. I learned what a magic number was and practiced my math skills by figuring out ours day-to-day. With the Nasty Boys, Marge, Big Lou, and of course Hal Morris, Joe Oliver, and Paul O'Neil, and Billy Hatcher...the Reds went Wire to Wire to upset the Oakland A's and win the WORLD SERIES!!!!!!!!
That year they won the final game out in Oakland. Down on fountain square there was a rally to welcome home the campions. Now, in my family to miss school you had to have some physical sing of death. And on the day of the WS parade and rally, Mother...get this...took me out of school and we went downtown. We screamed, we cheered, we bought commemorative t's...it is one of the most memorable days of my young life (enhanced by my HS sister pissing and moaning and my father's ugly hat). It was official...these boys brought me so much joy and excitment, and I got out of school????? Fan. For. Life.
Then it was down hill from there. A void not worth describing or else I'd sound like a Cubs fan. Admittedly during that time, baseball and my relationship went on a break. Plus at one point during this, I lived in Indiana with Cubs and Carnials fans, we still sucked, and I was distracted. But when I moved back the new stadium was up and lovely, the beer vendors cut me deals, and we had Ken Griffy, Jr and the Pete Rose-like hustle of Ryan Freel. We still sucked, but the warm weather and cold beer kept me coming back and I fell back in love. I guess you never fall out of love with something like sports, but with my focus was back people noticed and were calling me with extra tickets and left over bobble heads.
Last year we had a bunch of young players come up, but again another dissappointing year well shy of .500. But the season ends and immediately you look to the following year where on the first day everyone's perfect and everyone has equal chance to win with world series. (There's a life lesson there, if you missed it. Another one brought to you by baseball...If you lose today, threre's always tomorrow...not next sunday stupid football...TOMORROW!!!) So when the boys head to Arizona to start practicing I always get excited. Because a fresh start is right around the corner. I hear "Pitchers and cathers report"...and I think, "The void is over..."
This year, pitchers and catchers reported on Feb 18th. That day, my family and I were in the hospital awaiting my sister to deliver her first child. (My sister and her husband had given up on the chance for children but with a surprise pregnancy and a long complicated ride) While in the waiting room, my brother and I were reading a Baseball Preview magazine that predicted the Reds would place 4th this season. We optimistically disagreed, but had a long conversation about how this team just may have the mustard to carry us to .500 (we tend not to aim high here in Cincy)...And so on Feb 18 we were charmed with the arrival of ECK. In hindsight, it's no coincidence that she arrived the day the void ended. And the start of a charmed year for my boys.
Fast forward 160ish games of solid pitching, young energy, mohawks, rivalry, sweeps, being swept, Champan, Volquez, Cueto, Bronson "Fingers" Arroyo, Scotty, BP, my darling Joey MVottoP, and of course the flair for dramatic...BRUUUUUUUCE.
We did it.
When we clinched, my phone blew up with congratulations more than it did on my birthday. It was really a great day that I shared with friends and family. I high fived strangers, I drank champagne, I called my mother past midnight. Maybe my child will call me one night when the Reds clinch in 30 years and I'll tell them where I was the day we clinched in 2010.
Two days ago there was a rally on Fountain Square to send the boys onto Philly. To wish them luck and show our support. I skipped work. I typically have good work ethic but I wasn't being productive that day anyway...so I left my last meeting, cashed in some flex time and went downtown. Looking around that crowd and seeing the players get off the bus, I felt like I was 9 all over again.
And so begins the most wonderful time of the year...Postseason baseball featurING, "YOUR 2010 DIVIONAL CHAMPION, CINCINNATI REDS!!!!!"
Can't wait to hear Marty tell me that "This one Belongs to the Reds..."
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