It was in the summer of 1962 when Dad took Bruce and I to our first Cincinnati Reds game at Crosley Field, which in my opinion, was the focal point of the Queen City. The 1961 National League pennant flew below the American Flag on the tall pole just to the right of the huge scoreboard in center field. As a twelve year old baseball fan, I felt as though I was on hallowed ground. I can plainly remember the nervous energy welling up inside my body as we stood there at the ticket window, listening intently as Dad asked for "three box seats behind first base."
My heart raced as we passed through the turnstiles into what seemed like a cavernous area under the grandstands. It was a beehive of activity. Fans were pouring into the place. Workers were hawking score cards, yearbooks, and souvenirs of all types. Music was playing over the loud speakers and the cigar smoke was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The sights and sounds amounted to sensory overload but my eyes were immediately drawn to the partial view of the field. I couldn't wait to get to our seats, but that was going to take a few minutes.
First came the obligatory visit to the rest room. "You need to go before the game starts", he told us sternly. After that preliminary ritual Dad stopped to buy a scorecard (I think it cost a dime), and then a brief stop at the concession stand for hot dogs and cokes. Checking our tickets for the section number Dad led us toward the aisle that led to our seats. He handed the ticket to an older man who was nattily dressed in a red striped vest and old fashioned straw hat. The usher promptly led us down the steps to our seats, which he smartly dusted off with a towel. Dad gave him a tip and he headed back up the steps for the next group of fans to be seated.
We were twelve rows up from the field which spread out before us in all it's splendor. The grass was the most beautifully manicured turf I had ever seen. The skinned part of the infield appeared to be as smooth as silk and the chalk lines were bright white. A large "Longines" clock capped the huge scoreboard that loomed above the center field fence 387 feet from home plate. The "Sun Deck or Moon Deck" (depending upon if it was a day or night game) right field bleachers rose beyond the right field fence. Rather than a warning track all around the base of the outfield walls the ground rose at a 15 degree angle forming the infamous "Terrace" that opposing players loved to hate! The old ballpark at the corners of Western and Findlay, which had been built in 1912 had a seating capacity of about 29,000. The place was full of history, including the first night game in major league baseball, two all star games and four world series.
My eyes scanned the upper and lower decks and eventually found the WCKY radio booth, where ex-Yankee great Waite Hoyt broadcast the play by play. Hoyt had pitched for those great Yankee teams of the late 20's and had such great stories to tell of Ruth, Gehrig, and others during lulls in the game or rain delays. His voice was my companion on countless spring and summer evenings as I sat glued to my radio while listening to the Reds playing at home and in far away places.
Several Reds with bats in their hands were gathered around the batting cage, waiting their turns while Frank Robinson stroked pitch after pitch to all parts of the ball yard. Some rattled the left field fence and a number of them left the park altogether. Other players were scattered about the infield and outfield, scooping up grounders and shagging high fly balls. Starting pitcher Bob Purkey worked on his knuckle ball in the bullpen and the other pitchers ran sprints in the outfield between the foul poles. Man did they look sharp in their sleeveless home white pin striped uniforms and their white pin striped hats with the red bill. I knew I was in baseball heaven!
The opponent this particular night was the St. Louis Cardinals. There were no names on the uniforms then so I quickly checked the score card to identify the players. Dad pointed out the legendary Stan "The Man" Musial, who held the National League record for career base hits. Other Cardinal players whose names I knew from countless radio broadcasts and newspaper articles were Ken Boyer, Julian Javier, Curt Flood, Bill White, and Red Shoendienst.
The game began as the Reds' players were introduced individually as they trotted from the dugout to their respective positions. I knew the names - Eddie Kasko, Gordy Coleman, Leo Cardenas, Don Blasingame, Frank Robinson, and Vada Pinson - and they were managed by the great Fred Hutchinson. I knew these guys! I had their baseball cards in my room. Waite Hoyt told me all about them during the game broadcasts, and now I was seeing them in person! On this particular night, the fans went home happy on a game winning pinch hit home run by Jerry (Lynch in the Pinch) Lynch.
Now, 44 years later, I can't really tell you much more of what happened in that game. But the memory of the event itself lives on. I spent several great summer evenings in that old ball park and I was privileged to see some of the greats of the game play there - Pete Rose, Joe Nuxhall, Willie Mays, Tom Seaver, Nolan Ryan, Henry Aaron, Juan Marichal, Robin Roberts, Steve Carlton, Lou Brock, Tony Perez, and young Johnny Bench to name a few. Crosley Field remained the home of the Reds until 1970 when they moved to the big round donut that seated 55,000 on the riverfront. It has since been replaced by Great American Ballpark which is kind of a retro type park with a lot of character itself.
I took my grandson, Will, to his first game there last night. I'm sure his memories will be quite different than my recollection of that summer evening in 1962, but I hope they will be just as special!
My heart raced as we passed through the turnstiles into what seemed like a cavernous area under the grandstands. It was a beehive of activity. Fans were pouring into the place. Workers were hawking score cards, yearbooks, and souvenirs of all types. Music was playing over the loud speakers and the cigar smoke was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The sights and sounds amounted to sensory overload but my eyes were immediately drawn to the partial view of the field. I couldn't wait to get to our seats, but that was going to take a few minutes.
First came the obligatory visit to the rest room. "You need to go before the game starts", he told us sternly. After that preliminary ritual Dad stopped to buy a scorecard (I think it cost a dime), and then a brief stop at the concession stand for hot dogs and cokes. Checking our tickets for the section number Dad led us toward the aisle that led to our seats. He handed the ticket to an older man who was nattily dressed in a red striped vest and old fashioned straw hat. The usher promptly led us down the steps to our seats, which he smartly dusted off with a towel. Dad gave him a tip and he headed back up the steps for the next group of fans to be seated.
We were twelve rows up from the field which spread out before us in all it's splendor. The grass was the most beautifully manicured turf I had ever seen. The skinned part of the infield appeared to be as smooth as silk and the chalk lines were bright white. A large "Longines" clock capped the huge scoreboard that loomed above the center field fence 387 feet from home plate. The "Sun Deck or Moon Deck" (depending upon if it was a day or night game) right field bleachers rose beyond the right field fence. Rather than a warning track all around the base of the outfield walls the ground rose at a 15 degree angle forming the infamous "Terrace" that opposing players loved to hate! The old ballpark at the corners of Western and Findlay, which had been built in 1912 had a seating capacity of about 29,000. The place was full of history, including the first night game in major league baseball, two all star games and four world series.
My eyes scanned the upper and lower decks and eventually found the WCKY radio booth, where ex-Yankee great Waite Hoyt broadcast the play by play. Hoyt had pitched for those great Yankee teams of the late 20's and had such great stories to tell of Ruth, Gehrig, and others during lulls in the game or rain delays. His voice was my companion on countless spring and summer evenings as I sat glued to my radio while listening to the Reds playing at home and in far away places.
Several Reds with bats in their hands were gathered around the batting cage, waiting their turns while Frank Robinson stroked pitch after pitch to all parts of the ball yard. Some rattled the left field fence and a number of them left the park altogether. Other players were scattered about the infield and outfield, scooping up grounders and shagging high fly balls. Starting pitcher Bob Purkey worked on his knuckle ball in the bullpen and the other pitchers ran sprints in the outfield between the foul poles. Man did they look sharp in their sleeveless home white pin striped uniforms and their white pin striped hats with the red bill. I knew I was in baseball heaven!
The opponent this particular night was the St. Louis Cardinals. There were no names on the uniforms then so I quickly checked the score card to identify the players. Dad pointed out the legendary Stan "The Man" Musial, who held the National League record for career base hits. Other Cardinal players whose names I knew from countless radio broadcasts and newspaper articles were Ken Boyer, Julian Javier, Curt Flood, Bill White, and Red Shoendienst.
The game began as the Reds' players were introduced individually as they trotted from the dugout to their respective positions. I knew the names - Eddie Kasko, Gordy Coleman, Leo Cardenas, Don Blasingame, Frank Robinson, and Vada Pinson - and they were managed by the great Fred Hutchinson. I knew these guys! I had their baseball cards in my room. Waite Hoyt told me all about them during the game broadcasts, and now I was seeing them in person! On this particular night, the fans went home happy on a game winning pinch hit home run by Jerry (Lynch in the Pinch) Lynch.
Now, 44 years later, I can't really tell you much more of what happened in that game. But the memory of the event itself lives on. I spent several great summer evenings in that old ball park and I was privileged to see some of the greats of the game play there - Pete Rose, Joe Nuxhall, Willie Mays, Tom Seaver, Nolan Ryan, Henry Aaron, Juan Marichal, Robin Roberts, Steve Carlton, Lou Brock, Tony Perez, and young Johnny Bench to name a few. Crosley Field remained the home of the Reds until 1970 when they moved to the big round donut that seated 55,000 on the riverfront. It has since been replaced by Great American Ballpark which is kind of a retro type park with a lot of character itself.
I took my grandson, Will, to his first game there last night. I'm sure his memories will be quite different than my recollection of that summer evening in 1962, but I hope they will be just as special!
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