When I was about 9 or 10 years old, I began getting into baseball. I played locally, watched my home team (Boston Red Sox) on tv as much as possible, and when I couldn’t watch, I would listen to the games on the radio. Many late nights I awoke with headphones on still listening to WEEI Red Sox Radio Network on my Sony Walkman having fallen asleep sometime. during the late innings and waking up to the postgame show. Listening to the game on the radio always provided me with added excitement as the listener had to picture everything that was going on in the stadium. I remember trying not to yell out while the whole house was sleeping if the Sox won (or lost) in dramatic fashion, which in the 1980’s, was something the team did with increasing frequency on the losing end. Each year the team found new and creative ways to lose games, which hardened me into the New England sports fan that I am today. I watch the Sox, Bruins and Patriots, and ALL the New England fans have been spoiled with good teams and trophies since the early 2000’s, but it wasn’t always like this. I grew up having my heart broken by the Sox each summer, usually in late August after the team would catch fire for a bit, amping up the fan base and making the inevitable decline in the standings feel like getting punched in the gut every year over and over again. All Star and Hall of Fame players like Jim Rice and Roger Clemens, Wade Boggs, and Carl Yastrzemski played next to forgotten Sox like Ed Romero, Jody Reed, and Randy Kutcher. (Yeah, I googled for Kutcher…because, even if you’re a diehard fan….who the hell was that guy?)
I learned that being a true fan meant that you rooted for the team no matter what. Once or twice a year, I would board a school bus with my dad, sponsored by the local Boy’s Club (It wasn’t called the Boy’s and Girl’s club until much later) and roll into Fenway Park in Boston. We did it this way because my dad refused to drive into the city if he didn’t have to. He also refused to pay the outrageous parking prices around the stadium, which in 1984 were likely $10. If he were alive today, he would faint at the prices. I’m quite sure the old man got away for under $50 back then for 2 tickets in right field, as well as a hotdog (Fenway Frank) and a coke for each of us. If I wanted to take my family now, and sit anywhere decent at the ballpark, I would be dropping $600 easy. Someday I will do it though, because the green of Fenway, and the sounds and smells of baseball on a warm summer night is a magical thing. Growing up with the Sox gave me warm memories that I can still recall today. Wrapping my glove around a ball, after rubbing oil in it to loosen it up, as well as taking grounders and batting off a tee as a little kid still makes me smile when I see kids learning the game today. In short, I love baseball.
The other thing that got me hooked back in the day were baseball cards. Topps baseball cards. The kids in my neighborhood and I would bike to the small convenience store nearby and buy random packs of cards, hoping to randomly pull an All-Star or better yet, a Red Sox card. We would share, compare, and trade as well as play baseball games with the cards laid out on the ground in the shape of a baseball diamond along with dice and made up rules. Each pack came with a few cards (10?) and a flat stick of pink, sugary bubble gum that tasted good for about 10 seconds and then lost its flavor. Disgusting and wonderful at the same time.
I collected baseball cards from my youth until early adolescence when other priorities (girls) took over. I put them in boxes, plastic sleeves, and binders. I had thousands of cards, some carefully sorted and some thrown into shoe boxes. I didn’t collect thinking that cards might gain value; I collected for fun. Away the cards went into the attic or some dusty closet in my mother’s house where I nearly forgot that I had them.
Until recently.
My kids told me that their friends at school had football, hockey and baseball cards.
“Daddy, where can we get some cards? Kids at school are trading them.” I thought this was a long lost hobby because….the internet, and who spends time like this on a hobby that is slower than blowing stuff up on video game controllers? After a quick search on the Google machine, it turns out that the hobby is alive and well. I was surprised.
Today the kids are home from school during a somewhat rare spring Nor’Easter that has blanketed New Hampshire with several inches of snow, closing school and making it a challenge for me to work, play, and blog, as the kids run around in and outside. As I type this, they are having hot cocoa made by mom, which is also a great childhood memory. A few hours ago, I pulled some of my baseball cards out of said dusty old closet and showed the kids a binder full of Red Sox cards that I don’t remember at all. Believe it or not, I found Ed Romero….but not Kutcher. Did he even have a card? Could be a great way to rope my kids into the sport, make some memories and begin the cycle of nostalgia all over again.
Not a bad way to enjoy a snowy afternoon. Where’s that Honus Wagner card I thought I had?
Stay safe, stay awesome and stay tuned. Go Red Sox. We suck.
Moeschen! 