The Pilgrimage...

     It's around a week and a half until the trip to New York City. I haven't really thought about it too much but this weekend I was contemplating why I decided to go and the first reason that came to mind was Yankee Stadium. It's the last year it's going to be open and I've never been to a Major League Baseball game. 


     I wasn't always a Yankees fan. The first teams I remember cheering for when I was a kid in the early seventies were the Cincinnati Reds with Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Tony Perez and Joe Morgan-- and the Oakland  A's with that awesome pitching staff of Vida Blue, Catfish Hunter, Blue Moon Odum and Rollie Fingers (even their names were awesome). As I got older though and these two mini-dynasties came to an end, I somehow became drawn to the Yankees and have been a fan ever since.  I cheer for the Toronto Blue Jays as well...you gotta support your team but baseball just isn't as interesting for me when the Yankees aren't involved.

    

     It kind of got me thinking about how baseball was always part of my life and recalled starting little league-- when my best friend Jerry Donders and I made it through tryouts to be taken by the same team...

    We were given our uniforms, donned them and went to the ballpark even though we didn't play that day. There was a game on at the time and one of the older kids asked us when we played. We said we didn't have a game that day to which he replied, "Not cool to wear your uniform if you're not playing." Ouch.

    Mom and I never had many bonding moments growing up but I loved the times she would "have a catch"  with me in the backyard and let me "burn 'em in" as hard as I could... until I'd throw a wild one into the back of the house. We're done.

    Anyhoo, I don't want to take a completely boring trip down memory lane here. Well maybe a little bit. Baseball cards-- opening up the pack, having a sniff of the bubble gum/cardboard combination and finding the treasure within covered with powdered sugar. Finally getting Johnny Bench or Vida Blue and trying to chew that thin slab of godawful pink bubblegum.

    Most of my adult life I played baseball in some form or another, often three or four days a week. From the absolutely pathetic but fun Freak Brothers in Port Moody-- to West Van recreation league champs in 1997. 

     Great times playing competitive orthodox softball at Mahon park in North Van. Hitting my first grand slam, finishing first two years in a row but losing in the finals, the three day tournaments, trips to Gibsons, friendships and girlfriendsips made and lost... don't get me started.

     What I've been trying to communicate is the thought I had this weekend. That for me, going to Yankee Stadium for me is like a Muslim making his required once in a lifetime trip to Mecca or a Catholic visiting the Vatican... except without all the religion, hellfire and you get to see a ball game in New York City...