A baseball odyssey
Wednesday, June 25th, 2008 by davisMy brother and his son recently outlined plans for a trip to Boston’s Fenway Park to see St. Louis take on the Red Sox in interleague play.
Bill, one of my older brothers, is a Cardinals fan. His son, Brandon, backs the Sox.
Knowing that I’m a Cards’ fan, too, they asked me to tag along. Getting the OK from the boss (it was all right with work too), I said to count me in.
Between deciding that I’d go and saying that I’d go, the trip was expanded to include a stop at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx, too, since the House that Ruth Built will be demolished after this season, as well as a stop at the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio.
I thought about pointing out that the Nationall Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum was in Cooperstown and that the Soccer Hall of Fame was in nearby Oneonta, N.Y., but I was afraid our weekend trip — which had already been expanded to five days — could mushroom into a week-long trek. Afterall, Bill was already noting that the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame was along the route to Boston in Springfield, Mass.
But we decided the trip was ambitious enough and passed on Springfield. How could it be any better than the Indiana High School Basketball Hall of Fame in New Castle? That was my rationalization, anyway.
We enjoyed the football hall of fame, although Bill likely got more out of it than me. He’s a longtime Packers fan, and I’m a longsuffering Vikings fan. The shrine room was impressive, although I’ll argue the shrine at Cooperstown is more so. And if Cooperstown had a bust of Joe Namath, I’m sure it would look like Joe Willy White Shoes, not Soupy Sales.
Boston was pretty cool, too. We took in the Boston Commons the first afternoon in town, Friday, and I headed to the North End that night for a closer look at historical places, such as the Old North Church where Paul Revere saw that two lanterns signaled the arrival of the Red Coats by sea, while Bill and Brandon sought out Fenway.
On Saturday we boarded the USS Constitution and then went to the ballgame. The Cards won, 9-2. I tried to control my glee for Brandon’s sake. I probably didn’t succeed very well.
Stopping in the Bronx on the way home, we sought out Yankee Stadium for a tour. The guide, Ritchie, led us around the ballpark, including stops in the memorial garden (where Yogi Berra didn’t look like himself, Joe Namath or Soupy Sales), the Yankees’ dugout and the press box. I got goosebumps, there was so much history there.
I’m hoping this trip will rekindle my love for baseball, something that likely started when another big brother, Richard, took me to my first Cardinals game at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. What had once been a burning passion for baseball was all but extinguished with the 1994 strike that not only shortened the season but also canceled the World Series.
Again, I’m hopeful, and I appreciate being asked to tag along. It’s a trip I’m sure we’ll long remember.
Thanks for reading my blog, and thanks for logging on to TribTown.com.







