Don't Stop Believin'

My Great Aunt Gladys was a big baseball fan. Her old black and white photo albums contained pictures of her outside the Baltimore stadium in the '50s or so. I remember her being particularly fond of the Kansas City Royals during the late-70s and early 80's during the George Brett era. I believe her allegiance to the Royals stemmed from the fact that our family roots stretched down into Missouri. She would make occasional visits down there to visit her nieces and nephews. So, I guess that you can say that the love I have for the game of baseball was nurtured by Aunt Gladys since I spent a lot of time with her growing up.

Putting that aside, my first real baseball memories come from attending White Sox games at the old Comiskey Park as a kid. I can clearly remember attending a game right before the start of school when they gave away school supplies to all of the kids in attendance. It was a night game and I sat in those old wooden seats with my mom, Bill, Camille, Phil, and others. I was enthralled with the box of round reinforcing stickers used for fixing torn loose-leaf paper holes that was in my giveaway bag. In true Veeck fashion, there was an after-game firework show, too. The old, exploding scoreboard brought lots of excitement to the old ball park.

As I got older, I fell under the spell of the Cubs and spent many summer afternoons in the bleachers at Wrigley watching the '84 Cubs during that historic year. My allegiance is to the City of Chicago. I do not bleed Cubby blue any more than my southside pride causes me to jump up and down and throw my hands up in the air as I witness history in the presence of my daughters on a chilly October night.

The White Sox are the 2005 World Series Champions! Did I just type that? Yes, the Chicago White Sox swept the Houston Astros with a team that truly represented the melting pot of America. A team that worked hard together without the ego that inflates many of today's professional athletes. I saw it with my own eyes and will savor it my mind for the years to come. Perhaps, my girls will tell the story to their own children one day, too.

Do you remember where you were?