the boys of summer

   Today I watched a baseball movie, "Moneyball". I thought it was a pretty good movie, in that it was balanced between the romantic notions of baseball and the ugly realities of professional sports. We love the game, but it is a business. A big fricking money making business. Ball players are just as much entertainers as they are athletes. You have to be an entertainer to get someone to pony up hard earned cash to watch you hit, run, and catch.  Easy for me to say, I was never an athlete. Never had dreams of smacking a homer in the bottom of the ninth, down by a run with two outs. My dreams were on 2 or four wheels, more about that in another entry, later.

   I really was not introduced to pro baseball until the fall of 1987, when I was able to get two tickets to the playoffs from my sister (at cost; family is family but remember, baseball is business) I got the tickets and invited my buddy Eric to the game. I knew Eric was a big ball fan, and he liked to drink beer, so how can this fail? We went out to Candlestick Park (this is before stupid corporate names were attached to ball parks and stadiums, for all I know it's probably called Amway Park now or some other silly ass name) and watched the Giants lose to the St Louis Cardinals. I can't remember much about the game, but I remember having a good time and drinking beer with a good friend on a sunny day, it don't get much better than that. 

   In the years that followed, Eric and I spent many Sunday afternoons and Friday evenings (watching the f**king Dodgers) play the Giants. We could buy some nose bleed seats for about $6 and just enjoy the game. Unlike football, where everyone watches the clock, baseball is leisurely. We have at least 9 innings, so don't get excited. Anything can happen. And, we can buy beer until the 7th inning, so pace yourselves. We had nine innings to comment on the game, discuss the geopolitical situation, movie quotes, women, work, life. When the season was over, Eric and I would change venue to the bowling alley. The sport changed, and we became participants, but the discussion continued. And, like baseball, bowling is leisurely. The next frame can wait while we get another beer. And after the game, there is the lounge. Truly, the sport of kings.

   When I moved away, I left behind these great times and a good friend. A very good friend. But my friend taught me about how to enjoy, appreciate baseball. 

thanks, Eric.

   In my new home, I discovered minor league baseball. Same game, more mistakes maybe, but tons of fun. Cheaper tickets, cheaper beer, more fun. Yes, there is a major league team in town, but somehow, it's not the same. The game is there, the beer is there, the leisurely pace continues. But it's not the same. The discussions are gone. Those esoteric talks about everything and nothing are just echoes of the past. We came, we drank, we watched. Then one day, I headed east. My friend stayed in the west.
   A few years ago, I caught a Giants game with Eric at the new downtown ballpark in San Francisco. The beers were expensive. The seats were good. The view of the city and bay was great. And the conversation was the best.