Memoir Draft

It was another Saturday afternoon in Dunedin, the sun was shining and the sky was clear, a perfect day for baseball. The stage was set for Americas greatest pastime to start and my grandma and I were attending.

The high pitched squeak of her light blue Oldsmobile echoed through the air as we pulled into a parking spot at Jack Russell Stadium. My grandmother and I both got out of the car all decked out in our Clearwater Phillie's gear. We both wore a red Phillie's shirt, but I liked to wear a hat too unlike my grandma who enjoyed having her dark brown perm uncovered. I also brought my brown leather baseball glove to the games just incase a fly ball happened to come my way. Once we had everything out of the car that we needed, we began our long journey across the parking lot. We trudged through ditches and across gravel roads until we arrived at the other side. Once we reached the front gates at least three of the employees working the ticket both greeted her by her name. "Hello Jean", said one of the ladies working behind the counter. "Two Please", responded my grandma. As the woman handed us our tickets she let out a small smirk, probably just because she had seen us there so many times before. We were what you would have liked to call the "usual's", since we were there at least once a week. After we got into the park the smell of fresh hot dogs and popcorn filled the air. Seeing as they were a local team, seats were not too hard to come by. So we decided to sit right down the first base line, which happened to be our favorite spot. Not long after we had just been given the chance to sit down, we had to stand and remove our caps (or at least I did) for the National Anthem. Then the ceremonial first pitch was thrown by some local celebrity. Finally it was time for my favorite part. The umpire stood up from behind home plate and shouted "Play Ball!" The game was finally underway.

The away team was always up first, so the occasional “boo’s” were always shouted. But not by us of course, we both liked to show good sportsmanship. We never said anything bad towards the other team when they were at the plate. Don’t get me wrong though, once the Phillie’s came up to bat lets just say we were not the quietest fans in the crowd. We cheered for every player that would come up to bat, calling them by there full name as if we were on first name basis with them. I guess it was kind of a way for us to connect with the team that we followed so meticulously. My grandma used to tell me that they could hear me out there, that all of my chants were heard by each player. I know that was just her way of making me feel important, but hey, she is my grandma that is her job. So the game went by as usual, three up three down for both teams. The score was still zero to zero, a rather uneventful game so far besides the great catch made in center field earlier in the game. It was now the middle of the seventh inning, which meant the 7th inning stretch. Take me out to the ball game take me out to the…you know how it goes. This is also the time we usually went to go get some snacks. Hot dogs, cotton candy, and peanuts were foods that “normal” people got during the 7th inning stretch, but my grandma and I always wanted something different. I can’t recall why but something about going to these games always made us crave personal pan pizzas from Pizza Hut. There just happened to be one Pizza Hut vendor at the entire stadium, so we were always in luck. Seeing as this game was about midway through the season and we got two pizzas every game, the man behind the counter knew us pretty well by now. As soon as we walked over to the concession stand, the man turned his back and walked right over towards the food before we could even order. He grabbed two pizzas out from under the bright red heating lamps, both had the sticker labeled “fresh” on them. “A pepperoni for you Jean, and a cheese for the little guy.” said the older gentleman. “What do you say..?” whispered my grandma to me. “Thank you”, I replied. She always made sure I was polite to everyone, even if it was to the pizza man at a ball game. So back to our seats we went, pizza in one hand baseball glove in the other. We found our seats just in time for the bottom of the seventh inning to start. The game seemed to pick up right where it left off before the break. No one seemed to be getting any hits for either team. We were both growing rather tired by the time it reached the ninth inning. The inning started off with the opposing team getting a home run, putting them ahead by one. After they got three outs without scoring again, The Phillie’s came back up. Most people left the game before the inning even started figuring that the game was pretty much over. But true fans like my grandma and I stuck it out until the final out every game. The first two batters struck out swinging, and we were left with one out. One of the Phillie‘s players actually got a single and kept the game alive. Then the last person anyone wished for to come up to bat with the game on the line came up to the plate. He was a skinny guy, about 5’7’’, relatively the size of my grandma. So lets just say he was the least likely candidate to pull a late inning heroic. To both of our surprise, with two outs and two strikes the little guy crushed the ball into left field. Gone! It was a walk-off home run! My grandma jumped up out of her seat so fast that she dropped her last piece of pizza on the ground in the process. She didn’t care though. I soon followed in getting up and we both began cheering for the little man who was now rounding second. We left the game with that feeling of accomplishment, like we actually did something to help our team win the game. The car ride home consisted of us reminiscing about the great game we had just witnessed and talking about how much fun we had that day. Just before I got out of the car to run inside and tell everyone about the game, I turned to my grandma and said, “Can we do it again next week?” “I'll have your hat and glove ready for you.” she replied softly.

My once a week visit to the ballpark with my grandma gave me a great love for the game of baseball and all sports by teaching me the rules of the game, telling me past stories about the game, and showing me how to demonstrate good sportsmanship. We enjoyed many more Phillies games throughout the years, but not many games came close to having the excitement level that this one provided us with.