A Day of Baseball and the Card Key
Written by Dan McDonald
I
began to follow Major League baseball in 1965 or 1966. My first baseball hero was Willie Mays. I didn’t play well, but that didn’t keep me
from trying to make a basket catch of a pop up or fly ball when I was in the
field. Willie Mays’ trademark was his
basket catch. He held his glove near his
belt and caught the ball right next to his belt. He was one of the great fielders, making “The
Catch” in the 1954 World Series. He was
still one of the greatest players in the game in 1965 and 1966. My favorite quip I once heard was how a
sports’ reporter writing of Mays winning an All-Star game with a triple,
described Mays’ hit saying “The only guy in the park who could have caught the
ball, was the one that hit it.” I never
got to see Willie play in person, but when I realized the Giants would be
playing at AT&T Park while I was in San Francisco, I decided I had to go
see the Giants. AT&T Park if you don’t
know where it is in downtown San Francisco with an address of 24 Willie Mays
Plaza. Look at this picture below
for where I entered into the stadium on my first full day in California.
The desk clerk on Friday evening
after I had checked in told me the best way to get to a Giants’ game. It wasn’t to drive your car into San
Francisco. She recommended that I take
my rental car to the Milbrae Station where one could get commuter train service
on either the Caltrain or the BART railway systems. She told me the BART didn’t run near AT&T
Park but the Caltrain would get me in easy walking distance from the
ballpark. We’ll get to that story later. I had my trip to the ballpark planned and
then came frustration on Saturday morning.
I had a nice breakfast and returned to my room but my card key wouldn’t
work. The hotel staff sent someone to
help me check it out and it still didn’t work for my card but did for the staff
key. It got frustrating but gradually I collected all I needed to go to the game. While I went to the game, the staff had new batteries
even a replacement lock mechanism installed.
But when I came back my card still didn't work. Then one
of the staff members at the front desk said, “A lot of customers put our key
cards in wrong. The writing is upside
down when you are putting the card into the lock correctly.” Suddenly I realized nothing had been wrong with the lock, or the card, just my way of using the card. I was embarrassed. The first night I had been wearing my reading
glasses, so I saw clearly the arrow pointing downwards indicating how the card
went in. On Saturday I was not wearing
my reading glasses. The arrow was
blurred so I simply put the card into the mechanism with the writing right side
up, which really was the wrong side up. The staff seemed to ignore my embarrassed apologies for the trouble I put everybody to. One upside was that after I left the hotel for a few days to go to Yosemite, and then returned the next weekend, the lady at the desk that checked me in said, "Let's see you are Mr. McDonald." I hadn't introduced myself or shown my identification but she remembered politely the guy that had all the card trouble. This time the one who made the card key for my use while staying at the hotel carefully explained how the card worked. Somehow I already knew this second time, but I appreciated his telling me. Maybe it will save someone a few trips to the desk to figure out why their card key isn't working.
The Milbrae Station was a great choice to catch the
Caltrain. There was plenty of parking
for automobiles there and I had no trouble finding the right train. I did wonder if I was really on the right
train, but as I looked around at a full load of passengers, with almost
everyone aboard wearing Giants’ caps and shirts and even socks – I felt pretty
comfortable that this was the train heading to the “old ballgame.” Riding the Caltrain was a time and money
saver. Parking in downtown San Francisco
can be very expensive. Also I usually
spent about an hour extra anytime I drove in San Francisco as I would miss a
turn and then try to figure out how to get back to square one. I was definitely a tourist. My advice to anyone planning a San Francisco
trip, find out all you can about Caltrain, BART, and buses before you go. Hotels are very expensive downtown so I chose
one not far from the airport for a much better price. Use the bay area's public transportation system. It serves the area well and is reliable. That is how I
will do it if I ever go to San Francisco again.
I had spent some extra on my ticket
because I wanted memorable seats for this opportunity to sit in a park in the
city where Mays, McCovey, and Marichal got crowds charged up in the 1960's. I was happy when I reached my
seat and could take this picture of the field from my seat and had this wonderful view of the field.
I was sitting a few rows in front of the guys in the broadcast booth.
These were some of the best seats in the park. I had gone alone. I had gone wondering how lonely it might be to go to a game alone. The reality is, going to
a baseball game is for a churchgoer something like going to church. There is a liturgy that people follow. The public address system and instructions on the scoreboard often leads people in cheers, as a hymn board lets people know what to sing and a bulletin let's people know where to look in the prayer book or what is about to happen after the invocation. People joined together in following the liturgy begin to look around at one another as if they have something in common. In a baseball game, the guy behind you who is pointing out things to someone who knows less about baseball than himself is often a wonderful person to discuss the game. You realize he knows what he is talking about and is polite with his knowledge of the game. That is the sort of person you find yourself asking questions about different players, because to be honest I know more, lots more about the 65 Giants than the 2014 Giants. I know that in the end the Giants won a fight but the Dodgers won the pennant. But here is a guy who can tell me about today's players and which ones are a special joy to watch. On this day, our section was rooting for the Giants and we had something in common. There were cheers going on even if not everyone knew your name, but still you were together watching every pitch, watching others in the stands catch foul balls, watching good plays and not so good plays. There was a sense of community for the fans watching the ballgame. That is how we human beings are. We might come from different backgrounds, and not know the person sitting next to us; but if we begin to experience something together with that person even an introvert manages to speak up and enjoy conversation with someone with whom he has a connection. Human life is created in the vulnerability of individuality lived alone and capable of being painfully lonely. But human life was also created to be brought into a culture with its liturgy and rhythm of life.
It wasn’t
the Giants’ day. It almost was. The Giants led by one going into the
ninth. In the top of the ninth we
cheered hoping for three outs and no runs and a victory. It got to two out and a runner on first
base. The batter hit a ball into
centerfield. It dropped in for a single
as the centerfielder ran to cut it off.
The centerfielder fell running for the ball. The ball hopped by him towards the wall. The right-fielder ran after the ball, but by
the time he retrieved it a stunned audience tried to take in how they had just
witnessed a two-run inside the park home run.
In the bottom of the ninth a slight hope rose on a botched play. With one out the Giants hitter hit a pop
up. The third baseman, shortstop, and
pitcher stood near the pitching mound.
Each of them looked at the others to determine who would catch the
ball. No one caught it. It just dropped in between them, and the one
who customarily should have called for the ball was charged with an error. The Giants had the tying run on base. The final hitter hit a ground ball. The runner was out at second, the throw to
first was close and a long review followed ending in the call “out” at first
base, double play complete, game over.
Giants lose. But still it was fun
and I saw a Giants game and went through the Willie Mays Gate and had the best
major league seats to view a game that I ever had in my life.
I wandered
about the area because I wanted to get one more picture when the crowds around
the stadium had dwindled down. But for
some reason it didn’t turn out so I am borrowing one from the internet. This is the Willie Howard Mays Jr.
statue. If you ever saw Willie Mays hit
a home-run, you probably remember seeing him watch his drive going over the
wall and his body in this position.
Whenever a pitcher saw Mays looking like this after a pitch, he just
stuck his glove out and waited for the umpire to put a new ball in play. The old ball was somewhere in the seats beyond the outfield
wall. I wonder if the Willie of my youth had been the centerfielder would that single that became an inside the park home run been out number three and a Giants' win. The little kid in me was the one who sat in a seat at the park on a beautiful Saturday for the baseball game that reminded him of heroes whose names and numbers surround the stadium like icons of apostles and saints around our little parish sanctuary. I am not equating the two by any means, but I bow my head and remember that now I understand a little more that I did before that I have been created for the liturgy.
Borrowed
from http://www.blingcheese.com/image/code/95/att+park.htm
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