Dateline Winston-Salem, NC 1950ish–My dad was an unabashed lover of baseball, football, and basketball, in that order. Since he didn’t have a son, I guess he figured he’d better nab me to watch and participate in sporting events. However, My sister does love basketball and watches a fair amount of the other two. Everyone is the house was inoculated with the vaccine of “Play Ball!” at one time or the other. Jean and Mama pulled for the Dodgers and Daddy and I for the Yankees. It was all in fun, but Mama always pulled for the ‘underdog’ in any sport.
My first visit to a live sport occurred when I was a small baby. It was one of the baseball games Daddy played in as an outfielder for the Winston-Salem Journal and Sentinel. Daddy’s speed on the base paths was legendary. I would venture to say that if he hadn’t had a family he would have tried out for the minor leagues. As it was, he played for the Winston-Salem Journal and Twin City Sentinel and later for Doby’s Bakery.
When I was taken to the ballpark for the first time I was the star of the bleachers. Obviously bored by everyone cooing over the cute baby (that would be me), my sister climbed on the ledge of a cement wall to watch the game at Miller Park in Winston-Salem. The story goes that Daddy had reached on a single to first base. Mama was barefooted and chatting up another player’s wife in the stands. Mama was barefooted because Jean had begged to put her ‘big lady’ shoes on. As Jean sat on the ledge, she began to swing her feet. Of course, the shoes flew off below. She jumped down to retrieve the shoes and met a pile of broken glass dead on.
I only remember what I’ve been told about this incident. There is more than one version, depending on which aunt or uncle got to me with the story first. One of my uncles said that Daddy was rounding the bases and went on in when he saw Jean piled up in a heap of glass and scooped her off and kept running to the car. I was supposed to have been handed off like a football to a player’s wife in the stands while Mama and Daddy fled to the hospital with Jean.
What I do know is that later on, when I became old enough to know what was going on and heard the story repeated over and over; a new part was added each time. I got a kick out of poking around through the scars on my sister’s feet. They made a great maze and the tic tac toe board was already there. (Every pun intended!) When we rode to Myrtle in the summer, with our feet hanging out of the car window, I fantasized about how I could get money off people to give them a look at the bottom of her feet.
For many years after that I frequented baseball diamonds. If I wasn’t actually at a baseball field I was watching the Yankees on TV with daddy. The most memorable game I can remember is one that Daddy and I watched while visiting New York. That memory is featured in a story I wrote for “Chocolates for a Teen’s Dreams.”
Daddy would be proud of the sports fan I’ve evolved into. I can hardly wait for that first pitch of the 2012 Clemson Tiger baseball season, the smell of raw peanuts and the ump’s cry of “Play Ball!”