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Kate Marie

That's easy. My first great baseball memory is of my father getting me out of bed to listen to Nolan Ryan break the single season strikeout record for the California Angels. The game wasn't televised in the Los Angeles area, so my dad and I listened on the radio.


Joe Carter's World Series Ending home run in 1993. Your son has good horse sense. I don't care if that sentence doesn't make sense.


You know I can't resist answering a baseball question! My favorite baseball memory? I have so many, but, as a little girl, going with my parents to a Dodgers-Mets game at the Polo Grounds, made me a fan forever. I remember I loved everything about the experience...the crowd, the food, the excitement. I still feel that was when I go to a baseball game!

But, my most wonderful baseball memory of all time was listening to the Professional Baseball draft on the computer a few years ago and hearing my son's name announced as a draft pick by the Phillies. I still get choked up thinking about the screaming, crying and celebrating we did! It was the beginning of a dream of a lifetime for him...and for his mom and dad.

And, Let's Go Mets!! Hope Delgado doesn't disappoint the ten year old.


And how good was Paul Molitor during the 1993 World Series?

12 for 24 (.500)

2 doubles, 2 triples (at the age of 37?!), 2 home runs, 10 runs, 8 RBIs.

Mike Schilling

Not quite my first, but I fndly recall skipping classes at Berkeley to see the Giants play the Phillies at Candlestick. Vida Blue started and pitched a great game, but came out in the 9th with one out and sluggers Mike Schmidt and Greg Lusinski due up. Randy Moffit (Billie Jean King's brother -- you could look it up) came in and struck them out on six pitches. (Isn't the web amazing? It was this game).

Barry Bonds's number 500 wasn't bad either.


I haven't a specific memory, but it was sometime in 1959, when the Dodgers and I had both just moved to LA. The Dodgers went to the WS and beat the ChiSox, and the papers' sports sections were ecstatic. There was Jim Murray, writing column after column about the team in the LAT. There was the Coliseum, home of the Olympics, USC and UCLA, and now the hometown baseball team, with its idiotic left-field screen. There was Larry Sherry, winning two games and saving the other two in the Series. And there were Scully and Doggett on KFI everyday, and I could listen to them on my blue portable Motorola radio (5" high, 9" wide) while keeping score in spiral notebooks with hand-drawn rows and columns.

What more could a nine-year old boy want?

Exiled in New Jersey

Seeing Don Newcombe and Robin Roberts hook up on a Sunday afternoon in 1956 at what my dad called Shibe Park in Philly. The home team had yet to discover that Blacks could play baseball, so perhaps half of the crowd were cheering on the Dodgers and when Charley Neal doubled home the winning run in the 8th, they went home happy. Newcombe was much maligned when he played; the term was he 'choked' but way back in 1950 Newcombe pitched both games of a double header when the Dodgers were trying to catch the Phillies, completing the first and giving a 'quality start' in the second.

Chris the Cop


The Mets winning the Division championships in '69; me and my brother sitting on our front stoop banging pots with spoons. I was 12 - my brother was 15.

Before that, it was any of a dozen or so times in '62 or '63, flinging myself onto the living room floor screaming/crying/wailing, watching as the Mets blew another and another and another game in the 9th. I was 5. They were 40-120 that first year.


1967. Bob Gibson and the Cardinals vs. Yaz and the Red Sox. Forever cemented Gibson in my mind as the Cardinal. That was before I knew about Musial, but Gibbie's still the man to me.

Ronzoni Rigatoni

Ha! Back in the day (and I mean WA-A-A-AY BA-A-A-ACK) I used to listed to the Indians (with the play-by-play by Cryin' Jimmy Dudley) at my father's Beer Distributership in NW PA. Growing up with a hometown minor league team, I wanted to see the Indians in person, so I asked Dear Ol' Dad to take me to the game. To my surprise, he said OK and told me it was just around the corner. Whee! He took me to my Uncles' hardware store where the very first TV sets were on display, and there they were, the Cleveland Indians, on television, on a snowy round 12" screen, surrounded by a crowd of curiosity seekers. I was not impressed. This was wa-a-ay back in '48 (tolja). I have carried a grudge against all television programming ever since.


So many but one stands out and apropos of this thread, involves the Cards and the Giants, albeit SF by that time. It was a game in old Sportsman Park and as luck would have it all three Alou brothers played in the game. Not only that, but Mays and Cepeda hit a homer and I almost got a Stan Musial foul ball down the right field line but a big, fat drunk man plowed through me to the ball. Great park, great teams, great players, great park.


Lance, did you notice the apartment number in the Willie Randolph profile?


Way too many baseball memories to pick I'll cheat.

I was nine and exiled to my great aunt's for a week that summer. Disaster turned to hope when I found out there was a drugstore at the corner. I had a dime burning a hole in my pocket and a dream.

I walked there and quickly found the baseball card display. Behind the counter?! How could I hold the packs in my hand so I could telepathically know which one contained the most White Sox cards??? (Tell me you didn't do that!)

I asked the clerk if she could pick a pack out for me. She looked in the display. "There are no packs. Just loose cards. Must be why the box is here." My face fell.

She smiled and told me I could have all the loose cards for the dime. The motherload! The two cards I remember? Red Schoendienst and Mayo Smith -- the managers from my first World Series.


I don't know at what point I became a baseball fan, but I remember the moment I became a White Sox fan. I grew up in a Cubs household -- from spring to fall I would hear Jack Brickhouse or Lou Boudreau around the house (on TV or radio) just about every day. The Cubs were baseball in the sun, Hey Hey, and Let's Play Two -- seemingly incessant cheeriness (I must have been a blissfully unaware 7-year-old child in 1969). Then, at some point in 1976, I happened upon the UHF station that broadcast Sox games. On it was a team with a crazy owner (Bill Veeck), crazy uniforms (the untucked, big-collared uniform tops), a crazy broadcaster (Harry Caray), an exploding scoreboard, and what seemed like a huge park (compared to the Friendly Confines) populated with people drinking and having lots of fun at night. I was 14 years old. The cuddly Cubs held no interest for me, I was ready for the rowdiness on the South Side.

rameau's nephew

Go Cards!!!!!!!!!!

Driving to Sporsman's Park in 1963 with 6 other Cub Scouts in a Chevy (Impala?) Station Wagon. The rear seat faced backwards, and the window was cranked down. I was going on and on about my new prescription glasses, which apparently so annoyed one of my fellow cubs that he grabbed them off my face and threw them out onto I-70.

I have literally only a blurry memory of that game, but much clearer memories from September 1964, of a pocket transistor radio with an earplug, picturesque fall days on the playground at recess, the Phillie collapse, and a classic 7 game series against the more-to-be-pitied-than-hated Red Sox.

We could be looking at a rematch of '68, what a hoot.

Found our framed certificates from the 1965 opener at the now-demolished Busch when I was helping clean out mum's attic this last weekend, brought them back home with me along with a Johnny Edwards bat-day bat (my brother claims the Cepeda bat was his, damn his eyes).

Chris Quinones

My first games were a doubleheader at Shea against the Phillies, June of 1975. I was not quite seven. The Phillies won both games. Late in the second game, a reliever named Bob Apodaca was hit in the face by a line drive. The picture on the back of the Daily News the following day was something to see.

Mind you, I was in love well before that moment, but that's what I remember best about that day.


M. Rameau's nephew,
For the sake of accuracy, the Sox were the opponents in 1967 (Lonborg and all that). The Cards played the Yankees in 1964's World Series.

rameau's nephew

uh, I knew that about the Yankees-Cards in 64. I just had 67 and 68 on my mind lately as I watched the Tigers run from nearby here in Ontario.

I miss Jack Buck.


Earliest MLB memory: when they brought televisions into the grade school so we could watch home town boy Jim Kaat pitch for the Minnesota Twins in the playoffs.

Best memories: Every summer Uncle John took all his nieces and nephews to Tiger Stadium on bat day. He was a GM bigwig and had the use of GM tickets on the 3rd base line.

Best adult memory: 1984, Kirk Gibson. Need I say more?

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