Last night (Friday) I watched an inning of the scrimmage between the 2 Dodger squads on TV. It was so odd and, frankly I couldn’t get into it quite the same as a regular game. On the other hand it is baseball. After I turned the TV off, it began to stir in me the query of why do I love baseball so much. As a result, I began to reminisce about how I began to play, and fall in love with, baseball in my younger days in Dairy Valley, and mostly at Artesia Park. It was so easy to do back then. Forgive the ramblings of an old fool, but this is a bit of my story on how I began to love baseball:
● My family immigrated from Holland in 1956. Neither of my parents knew anything about baseball. As was common among the Dutch culture then, they were very hard working people, and the vast majority of time they worked. As a result, I never played catch with my Pop (that’s what I always called him). Mind you I did not fault him for that, nor did I resent him. His work schedule on the dairy as a milker was absolutely ridiculous. He would begin milking the cows at Noon, and milk until 6:00 p.m., at which time he would come home and have dinner. Dinner was always served at 6:15 p.m., not a minute before or a minute after. I was an adult before I understood why. After dinner, Pop would spend and hour or two with chores around the house and spend a little time with me and my brother. By 7:30 or 8:00 p.m. he was off to bed. He would wake at 11:00 p.m., get himself ready, grab a piece of bread and some coffee and begin milking again at midnight. He would milk from midnight to 6:00 a.m., come home(our house was on the dairy property), eat breakfast, on off to bed he went. He would wake at 11:00 a.m. to begin the cycle all over again. He did this on 29 of the 30 days of the month, getting one Sunday off per month. Also, on the Sundays he did work, he wouldn’t sleep in the morning, because he made sure we went to church.
● I was introduced to baseball at Artesia Park, on the corner of Clarksdale and South Street, by Jerry Boyd, his cousins Duke Downs and Adrian Downs and their cousins David and Leroy Culp. My Mom would send to the park to play, even though I had yet to learn how to speak English and was not yet 6 years old. You could do that back then, as no one seemed to fear allowing kids to play on their own. On my first day going to the park, I was watching some young kids playing basketball on an outdoor court. The nets on the hoops were made of iron. As I was standing there, Jerry Boyd came over to me and asked me to join in. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but eventually he pulled me onto the court, showed me how to dribble a ball and how to pass it. And so, I started playing a game I had never played before. I was terrible at it, but I loved playing. The following day, I went back to the park. This time the same kids were playing baseball. Once again, Jerry Boyd, brought me over to join them. He showed me how to hold a bat, how to put on a glove, how to throw a baseball and how to swing at a pitched ball. It was so much fun for me. A few weeks later, either Duke or Adrian Downs gave me an old taped up bat and a severely worn out glove, along with a 10′ inch baseball that was cut in several places. They also showed me how to throw the ball in the air and swing at it so I could play by myself whenever I wanted to. And, so it began, my love for baseball.
● Back then, Dairy Valley (now called Cerritos) had a population of about 3,500 people, along with about 35,000 cows, 80,000 chickens and about 10,000 turkeys. The smell of cow manure wafted across the city constantly. Artesia was the neighboring town. It was slightly more populated with people and had less cows. Artesia also had the amenities of small town city life, whereas Dairy Valley was basically just the dairies. But, one nice thing about the dairy was that you always had a place to play by yourself, and that is what I would do. 365 days out of the year it seems, during my free time, I would head out to a “dry” corral with my ball and bat, throw the ball in the air, swing at it with my bat and do this over and over again. It was so simple and so enjoyable. I could also pitch to a haystack. Hay does not stack evenly, so there is always a small hole between the bales. I would throw to one of them holes trying to hit it more frequently. You had to be somewhat careful though, because sometimes skunks would make their home in the haystack and you didn’t want to find them in the hole you were pitching to. I couldn’t afford to lose my ball to skunk pee. On occasion I would throw the ball against the side of the dairy barn, but the rough cement/stucco would scar up the ball too easily.
● If I wasn’t entertaining myself on the dairy, I would head off to Artesia Park, and you could always find the Downs boys there along with Jerry Boyd, and later Louis Martinez and Carlos Munoz and we would play over the line. I loved playing over the line. I loved the simplicity of the game, 2 or 3 defensive players, and 2 or 3 offensive players, hitting between 2 gloves thrown on the ground. We would reverse the field at Artesia Park. “Home Plate” would be set up in the outfield, approximately in line with where 2nd base would be in a normal game. The fence by the dugout would be our home run fence. Anything hit over the fence was a dinger, and gave the hitter bragging rights for a good half-hour at least. If you hit off the fence on the top quarter of the fence you had a triple, anywhere else on the fence was a double. Anything else hit that was caught as a pop up or a grounder was a single. Hit the ball to right field and you were out. Plus you had to retrieve the ball yourself. Hitting the ball to right field was absolutely prohibited. We were all a bunch of pull crazy hitters. If you hit left-handed, the pitcher would pitch from the right of what would normally be the third base line, so you would have a better chance of hitting it to left. The camaraderie was amazing, as was the laughter. I never had a bad day, or moment playing over-the-line. Sure, sometimes we would argue whether or not the ball was foul or not, but that was part of the normal trash talk that went along with the game. It was so simple then and I loved it.
● It was during these times of playing over-the-line at Artesia Park that I learned about the Dodgers. Somebody, it seems, would always bring a transistor radio, and it would be turned on to a game (when they played during the day) while we played. I soon learned that the Dodgers were the team to root for and, if you cheered for the Dodgers, you hated everything Giants and Yankees. Seemed simple enough. When I was 7 or 8 I got my own transistor and began listening to the Dodger games every night. The transistor would be safely tucked under my pillow, so my parents couldn’t hear and I would go to sleep listening to Vin Scully and Jerry Doggett. Occasionally, I would be roused from my slumber by Vinny say “This ball is belted to deep right field, she’s a way back, she is gone!” I get goose bumps of excitement, smile to myself and back to sleep I went, knowing that all was well in my world. I loved the experience and still do.
● When I was 9, I got a Larry Sherry Pitch Back for my birthday. Now I no longer had use for the haystack or the side of the barn. I would pitch to the Pitch Back until it got too dark to see. Willie was a black man who would come to the dairy to pick up the used baling wire and other medal products on a regular basis. He was also a lover of baseball and the Dodgers. He would watch me pitch to the Pitch Back and give me pointers on how to grip the baseball. I learned a lot from Willie. Throwing to my Larry Sherry Pitch Back, my love for baseball began to grow by leaps and bounds.
● Also while I was 9, my neighbor, Tony Silva took me to a Dodger game at the L.A. Coliseum. The lights, the sounds, the smells, the cheers of the crowd, the larger than life ball players, it was an incredible experience, and at that moment, I became irretrievably hooked on baseball. I was totally smitten and in love.
● It was so simple. The game is simple, yet it moves at a pace that requires you to think and stay focused. It is simple, but hitting a baseball, even when you toss it in the air to yourself, is not easy. When it’s coming at you at 60, 70, 80, 90 or 100 mph, with spin and curves it is arguably the hardest thing in sports to do. But I love it. When you swing and the ball hits the sweet spot of the bat, you just know that everything is so right. It’s an incredible feeling. I loved that feeling, each and every time it happened.
● I’ve also always loved the camaraderie I experienced playing baseball. There’s a certain bond you develop with baseball players that you don’t experience in too many other situations. Because my parents did not fully come to understand the American culture and its fascination with baseball, I did not get the opportunity to play much organized ball growing up. Artesia Park had an informal 10 inch team that would play against local communities, but that was more of a “you show up you play” experience. Jack, the recreational director at the park, would schedule as many games as he could, but I don’t remember having a league, as such, nor did we wear uniforms. Bring your glove, and be ready to play is how I remember it going. Sometimes we would all pile into the back of his truck and head to a neighboring community to play. Mostly, I remember playing against Duarte and Rosemead. I loved every minute of those experiences.
● When I was 13, my parents did allow me to play one year of Pony Baseball, as long as I paid for everything myself. At the tryouts, I had to face my good friend, and baseball rival, Carlos Munoz, a hard throwing lefty who was the “best” pitcher in our age group. We didn’t have a fence in the outfield at Artesia Park, so you could never tell if you hit a home run, you always had to run it out. In any event, I hit the first pitch off Carlos a long ways over the left fielders head, and if I hadn’t stumbled and fell rounding first base, I’m sure I would’ve had a home run, but settled for a triple instead. I ragged Carlos about that throughout our high school years. A few years back, I had the pleasure of attending Carlos’ birthday party. His body was ravaged with Parkinson’s Disease, but his mind was still sound. Here we were in our 60s, we hadn’t seen each other more than 3 times since high school and he had extreme difficulty speaking. Yet he was confident that I was “lucky and had probably swung with my eyes closed.” I was still ragging on him that over the years that I was the only hitter he could never strike out. Although it wasn’t the only bond we had, baseball was such a special bond. We had a couple of hours together of laughter, love and a special joy. As I left the party, I kissed Carlos on his forehead, told him I loved him and that I cherished the memories we had together at Artesia Park and through high school. He had a gleam and tear in his eye, nodded his head, and we had a special baseball moment. Baseball is such a simple game and I love it. Carlos died 3-4 weeks later, but his memory lives on.
● Initially, my love for baseball also served as a divide between me and my parents. Dairy Valley and Artesia, despite all the fun I had growing up there, had a large Dutch community. All of my parents friends were Dutch, we attended a Dutch church, the people they worked with were Dutch and so on. As a result, they never learned how to speak English very well and they never left their Dutch culture and heritage. When I was young, this was troubling to me as I was beginning to enjoy the American culture, my American friends and baseball (along with Wonder Bread, but that’s a story for another time) represented to me, what it was to be an American. You know, nothing as American as baseball, hot dogs, and apple pie. None of which my parents cared to share with me. But, because baseball was so simple and my love so deep, it was something easily done on my own and that’s what I would do. It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I learned that my Pop, although he never expressed it to me, was a ball dog just like me. I knew that he had played soccer (voetball) in Holland when he was younger. Dutch soccer star, Johann Cruyff, arguably the greatest soccer player of all time (certainly in the top 5), had signed to play with the Los Angeles Aztecs. I took my father to a game at the Rose Bowl to watch Cruyff. I had never seen my father so excited about a sporting event in my life. Later, I took him to Dodger Stadium, with my nephew to watch a Dodger game. He loved it. I always tell others that I have been a “ball dog’ all my life. Put me in the back yard with a ball and I can be entertained for hours. My sons are that way too. I learned, much too late unfortunately, that I had inherited my love for balls from my Pop. After he died, I was clearing out some of his drawers and cupboards, over the years, he had cut out every box score for my games in high school as well as my sons games. He had never seen me play, but yet he cared. Baseball is such a simple game, and I love it!
● My love for baseball has grown exponentially since I’ve become a father. Playing catch with my boys, watching them play catch with each other or play games in the back yard when they were young was an incredibly special experience. I did not try to force baseball on them (although I’m sure I was biased), but I loved watching them play. It’s such a simple game and I love it. This love continued to grow as I had the pleasure of coaching them in youth ball and through high school. My boys were so much better than I could ever dream of being, but they shared the same love for the game that I had, and I knew that they were better for it. Now, I have grandkids, 2 boys. The oldest boy, Arie, who is 6, recently had a Facetime conversation with my wife. One of the first things he told her was “11 more days until baseball Oma.” Whenever, we get together, he wears out my arm throwing to him. He is a ball dog, and would play baseball 24/7. You know what, I love it and look forward to the next time I can go into the yard and pitch to him. I don’t care if my arm falls off. I love every minute of it!!
There’s so much more that I could ramble on about, but I’ll stop for now. I love baseball. It’s a simple game. So simple, you can even play by yourself. I will forever be grateful to Jerry Boyd, Duke Downs, Adrian Downs, Leroy Culp and David Culp for taking a tall and much too skinny Dutch boy, and putting a bat in his hands. Little did they know what a love affair they would create. Please take the time to tell us your story.
Thank you
What a wonderful story
What a beautiful story. Thanks for sharing 2D2.
Truly a simple game, but what extraordinary skill you must possess, to play at the highest level.
A truly beautiful post today 2d2. I felt as though I was right there with you sharing all those experiences.
Great memories which I’m sure you’ll share with your grandkids if you haven’t already.
Thanks for a great start to my Sunday.
Also, this is one of The Boss’ greatest songs, so thanks for that! Bruce’ last show in LA was in March, 2016. He played the final concert ever at the LA Sports Arena (where the new amazing LAFC stadium sits)
I, as a music lover, of course was there. He played this song. He played my fave Bruce song, “Dancing in the Dark”. Surprisingly, he didn’t play “Born in the USA”! That was shocking.
Dodger Intrasquad game will be on again tonight at 6:30pm
My personal choice is My Home Town. Yeah, I do have some rock albums including Springsteen’s greatest hits. I also have all the reissues of the Beatles. Steven Van Zandt, one of the members became sort of a favorite of mine when he played Silvio Dante on the Sopranos. He also had a Netflix series called Lillehammer. If you have never seen it, you should. It was pretty good.
My Top Two Boss Songs:
Great, great stuff 2D2. Brought back a lot of memories I had of living in Orange County after arriving here from Canada. I vividly remember the orange groves which have now sadly disappeared. To see the same love and enthusiasm in your children and now grandchildren must be a very good feeling and make you proud. Thank you for sharing.
Great story 2D2. My early childhood was somewhat nomadic as my dad was in the Navy until 1951, and I was with my grandmother in Inglewood. Then we started moving a lot. First to Nevada, then back to Cali for a little while. Then to Iowa which was the home of my dads family. Not much time for baseball in those early years. My mom left my dad in Iowa and we went to her home in Minnesota. We stayed there until I was ready to go into the first grade, and then back to Cali. We lived in Hawthorne most of the time, and when I was in the 3rd grade is when some friends invited me to join them for a game of over the line. Dirt field, no fence. I had no glove. I also discovered at that point that I was a lefty. So I would use one of my friends gloves, catch the ball then remove the glove to throw. We played for hours. When we did not have enough for over the line, we would play a game we called 3 flys up. One of us would hit fungo’s to the others until one of us caught 3 fly balls. The object was to try and make those fly’s as difficult as possible to catch. By the 4th grade we were allowed to play softball during the lunch recess. For some unknown reason, hitting the ball was the easiest part for me. For a kid that age, my hand to eye co-ordination was pretty good. Since I did not have a glove, fielding was a little trickier. Right after my 4th grade year was over, I was 10, I was sent to live in a home for kids in Highland Park. My uncle had taken me to a couple of LA Angels minor league games in the mid 50’s. I knew who the Dodgers were from the few baseball cards I had at the time. I had also seen a couple of WS games with them and the Yankees on TV. But I was not really a fan then, and since my dad was no where in the picture, I rarely played catch with anyone. But all of that changed when I went to the home. We went to games about once a month. Free tickets for underprivileged kids and all. It was 1958. The Dodgers were now the home team, and I fell in love with the game. We had a dirt field at the home, and all that summer, and whenever we could get enough kids to be interested, we played. I had started collecting baseball cards more avidly and I was learning what all of the stats meant. The first homer I ever saw in a major league park was hit by some guy named Aaron. Braves hit 3 that day off of Koufax. Adcock and Mathews hit the other 2. But I was hooked. From 1958 until now, I have been in love with the game. I played every chance I got. I got my first glove for Christmas in 1958. We could order one special gift when we were at the home for Christmas. I got a first baseman’s mitt. I played everyday at school. In 1959, I played little league for the first and only time. And I was the only kid at the home allowed to do so. My friends at school were on a team called the Yankees. Dave Loper, who had lived at the home for a time before his mom got him back, and Steve Weaver, were the kids who talked their coach into getting me on the team. They actually had to trade one of the kids on the team to another team to make room for me. I played in 2 practice games before the season started. I was the regular 1st baseman, but doubled in the outfield when the need arose. I loved every minute of it. We played a 9 game schedule. We went 8-0-1. We had a tie with the Indians. Then we got beat by the Indians 10-5 in the playoffs. Huge blow to us all. I went 15-21. Hit .714 with 1 homer. Had to run it out since we had no fences. Only struck out twice. Funny how I remember all of that stuff. Our pitchers threw a perfect game against the White Sox. Also the only time I was hit by a pitch. A classmate was on the mound and he had told me if I hit against him he was going to plunk me. I was 2-2 when he came in to pitch in one of the innings. And sure enough the little bugger hit me right in the ankle. My other great memory from then is when we were playing the Cardinals. I was in the outfield, playing center. Their best hitter crushed one that got between me and the left fielder. I got to it a little before he did, and turned to throw the ball in. The kid was between 2nd and 3rd and was being waved home. I just uncorked it as hard as I could toward the catcher. Best throw I ever made in my life. Beat him to the plate and he was tagged out. Why he was trying to score is a mystery, we were up by about 7 runs at that point. Bad part was, my arm was never the same. Something popped in there when I made that throw. Shoulder is sore to this day, and it wasn’t helped by falling on it on the ice in Korea a few years later. For the next several years, I played when ever I had the chance. The home got it started. When they opened the new rec center, unfortunately covering our baseball field, Tommy Davis, Norm and Larry Sherry were there. I talked to Tommy about hitting. This was just before he went on to win the NL batting title that year. Larry and Norm lived just up the block from us. They would get us kids to shag balls for them at Arroyo Seco Park before they left for Vero. Played some high school ball. But then I joined the Army. I played all through my 9 years in the service. It was my connection to the game. Went to minor league games at FT. Bliss, and when ever I was home on leave, we would head out to Dodger Stadium to see my boys. Had my daughters well versed in a love of the game and the Dodgers. They would even get down and do the We love the Dodgers with their hands in the air and bowing. My oldest still is a Dodger fan as is my son. My youngest has crossed over to the dark side and roots for the Giants along with her hubby. Except for my grandson, the grand daughters are all Giants fans because of thier mom. But every February, I get the itch….5-4-3-2-1…..pitchers and catchers report…..lets play some ball. One other thing. Someone yesterday after I mentioned Ted Williams said that Williams had 40-20 vision. Actually his vision was 10-20. One of the reasons he was such a great pilot and flew fighters when he was in the service as a Marine.
Thanks for reminding me of 3 flies up!! We played that too. Not as often as over-the-line, but often.
Bear, you need to reach out to Jeff and see about writing an article or 2. You are a wonderful writer.
Thanks..he can reach me at bluefan48@gmail.com. I come up with ideas now and then. I wrote one for another blog about a year ago about being a Dodger fan in the Friedman era, and being more old school. Oh got a 60 Sherry card in the mail the other day.
He can get my email address on here and contact me that we.
The first time I went to Disneyland as a kid was in 1955. My aunt had gotten free tickets for opening week. To get there from her house in Redondo, we had to go out Artesia Blvd all the way to Buena Park. Same as if we were heading to Knotts back in the day. No freeway in those days. And Artesia was lined on both sides by orchards, and dairy’s. Vermont Dairy was one of them. Took about an hour to get there. We had 15 ride ticket books. No Matterhorn yet. But what a day. Back then they had a mule train ride in Frontierland. Also a stagecoach ride. I used to love to go to the Welch’s grape juice stand. Was right next to the Pirate ship which was sponsored by Chicken of the Sea Tuna….pre Charlie, and get a cup of grape juice. They were 50 cents back then. And tasted soooooooooooooo good. I was totally in awe. Up until that time the only amusement park I had been to was the Pike in Long Beach. They made the best fudge in America at Disneyland. And back then, it was affordable. Now, you have to mortgage your house to afford good fudge!
Great memory on Chicken of the Sea Pirate Ship and Welch’s grape juice stand. I do remember those. I do not remember when my first trip to Disneyland was, but it was after the Matterhorn opened up. I would have been seven at the time (1959). Probably that summer.
Great memory there too Jeff. It was in 59. What I remember was riding the Matterhorn and always finding parts of ticket books with tickets in them on the floor of the bobsled. People would keep them in their shirt pockets and they would fall out during the ride, and most did not notice until way too late. I also remember the lines to ride it were long. That and the new submarine ride. Much later, when I was playing music, I had a friend named Frank who worked at Disneyland for over 30 years. He was the one who made and repaired all of the harnesses used on the wagons on main street and the other rides that used live animals up until they were replaced. Frank was a great guy and did a little singing himself. I never had to pay to get into Disneyland after we became friends. Frank could get 4 passes a day. This was of course after it became a pay one price amusement park, plus he could sign in up to 8 more people. I did not abuse what he offered, but it allowed me to take my son a few times when money was tight. Have not been there since 2005. I saved up and took my daughter’s family for a day. I drove in from Phoenix, and they came down from Lake Isabella. We had a great time. It was their 50th anniversary celebration. Definitely got some Welch’s. Stayed away from Its A Small World. I get that song in my head, it is there for a month.
Awesome story, Rob. I have often wondered how it would feel to imitate to a country when you could not understand the language. My wife came to the US when she was 3, but in anticipation of coming here, her whole family learned English and she learned to talk speaking English alongside Tagalog. She can understand Tagalog to this day, but cannot speak it. By the way, as an immigrant herself, she thinks it should be a requirement to speak English in order to become an American.
Depends where you’re moving to. If your moving to New York you would be better served learning New York as opposed to English.
Same with anywhere in Texas….
I spent some time in the Philippines when I was in the Marines. Beautiful country and beautiful people!!
Bear. I read that Ted Williams eyes were so good, he could spot another airplane in the air long before anyone else. That is one reason he was such a good fighter pilot.
20/10 eyesight is excellent Al. It also was one reason he picked up baseball’s so well. He could see the spin better than most. Just think if the man had not lost 5 years in his prime to wars. An extra 200 homers would not have been out of the question. Would have given him 721 had he done that, and a new homer king would have been crowned. Even if he had hit only 35 a year, that would have been 175 more. Giving him almost 700, Good enough to be # 2 behind the Babe. Williams flew 39 combat missions in the Korean war. In WWII he was stationed at Ewa Field in Hawaii. He never got the call to combat. They built a baseball field on Ewa as a place he could practice his swing and the Marines stationed there were known to chase down Williams blasts as souviniers. The Field was named in honor of an admiral and still exists today. Reconfigured as a little league field for the islands kids. Williams flew in the same squadron as John Glenn in Korea and many times was his wingman. Glenn recalled that Williams skill as a pilot saved his life when he crash landed his F9F Panther after being hit by enemy gunfire. He brought the jet in on it’s belly and was able to get out before the plane caught fire. Glenn also said that as much as he loved baseball, he always considered Williams a Marine pilot first. Pretty hefty praise. And when you think of all of Williams talents. He won 6 batting titles in his career. The last 2 when he was 38 and 39 years old. His last season, 1960, he hit .316 when he was 41. The prior season 1959 was the only season in his entire career he did not hit .300. He hit .254 in 1959. His last season he also hit 29 homers in 113 games.
Great story 2D2. Thank you. Brings back memories of the way we filled up time with baseball related activities not actually played on a diamond. We played screen ball very similar to the game you described but had another that was unique because of the structure in which we played. If I might explain. The link shows a real life picture of the structure as it still is today in Lunenburg.
http://www.newscotland1398.net/lunenco/blockcan1620.jpg
The cannon has been there for many years as Lunenburg was founded in 1753 and a fortress was built on a hill overlooking the harbour and had the cannon to deter French ships. The walled area formed the foundation for the fortress.
Inside the ring we played a three-player game. A pitcher, a catcher and a fielder. We used the area on one side of the cannon which is in the middle of the walled area. The raised area is about six feet across. This game had no pull hitting. A single was anything that got past the fielder and made it to the wall. A double was hitting the wall on the fly. There was no triple but there was a home run. A home run was earned when a ball was hit in the air and landed on top of the wall. The fielder could put a foot against the wall and jump up to try to make a catch but could not put either foot on top of the wall or land on the wall. Doing so meant an automatic home run even if the ball was caught. A ball hit outside of the wall was an automatic out. Bat control was the big thing, not power. We played that game for hours and hours each week.
By the way, we had a Dutch family move into Lunenburg in 1953. Mike Vandertoorn and I became very good friends. Mike never really caught on to baseball but he was an exceptional soccer player.
By the way, love the photo you chose for the title. I loved the movie. Could have done without the love story part of it, but it was central to Costner’s character. Using Vinny as the announcer was the classiest part of the movie. No one has ever painted a game in words like Scully. Some of the greatest memory’s I have are of listening to Vin at night under the covers so no one could hear me. That is what I was doing the night Sandy K’d 18 Giants. Memories like that are what make the game so special to me. Also the only time I sat behind the screen at the coliseum. I remember Charlie Neal hitting a screaming liner down the line that went foul by a couple of feet and hit the seats not 3 feet from me. Everyone was scattering. The other great memory was being in CF, just before I sang the anthem in 81. Hearing legendary John Ramsey announce me as the evenings anthem singer was awesome. Ramsey also announced for the Kings and Angels. He is also noted for a famous gaff. During a rain delay at Dodger Stadium. Ladies and Gentlemen, while our ballgame is being temporarily held up because of rainy weather here at Dodger Stadium, our well known organist, who is located in the centerfield bleachers, is going to entertain you by diddling on his organ. Classic blooper. Later recreated on Kermit Schaefer’s 1974 documentary, Pardon my Blooper. My foster father used to have a collection of those, and some of the bloopers are hilarious. And note he said the organist was in the CF bleachers. That was a long time ago. Organist has been on the press tier now for many many years.
Just off the subject of 2D2’s terrific article for a moment, did I miss it, but is Thomas in camp? Can not seem to find any news on him. Thanks.
Cody Thomas is on the 10 day IL.
Thanks AC.
Reks is on the 10 day IL also.
And Edwin Uceta.
Great story 2D2!
Brings back great memories of riding a bike to the park and playing pickup baseball with friends all day long in the summer!
No adults, no coaches, no umpires. Just friends playing a great game.
Thanks for your story!
KJ is back in camp. He had COVID-19 with some mild symptoms.
His son first came down with the virus and the family contracted it from there. KJ said it happened so fast. He never considered opting out. He is still off dairy and kept his sodium level down to keep his blood pressure down. The family is fine, all have been cleared.
He has never stopped working out, and it should not take him long. He figures 3-4 bullpens and he will be ready.
He just warned everyone to stay vigilant because it comes on fast.
Good news. Welcome back, KJ.
By the start of the season, everyone will be immune.
I read an article yesterday that in one city 41 people died of COVID-19 in 3 months.
5 of them were gunshot victims.
I think this stinks!
You take me back D2D. Thank You so much. I feel that many of us share the experiences that you describe.
My favorite Birthday Party of all time is my 12th in 1958. My Mom took me and 11 of my friends to a public baseball park. Dropped us off about 9:00am and we played baseball all day long with a break in the middle when my Mom returned with a picnic lunch for everyone. I still play golf but I miss playing Baseball more than anything.
Bait was firmly placed on the hook, but the bobber never moved… Thats fishing I guess!!!
2D2 great stuff as usual… You guys are dueling each other with your stories…
Early favorite moments in my Dodger upbringing….
Campy night at the Coliseum..Only time my Dad let me touch his Navy insignia Zippo lighter…
My Dad also took me me up to Chavez a couple times to see the building of Chavez Ravine… As a kid I was mezmerized by size of the cranes they were using…
Having my first Philippe beef dip sandwich and off to the game at the Ravine…
P.S. Also over the line at the school yards and none were locked up like today…
What an amazing, moving story, 2D2! As a long-time resident of the Netherlands, I appreciated the Dutch angle. Whenever I feel sorry for myself, I am going to think of your father milking cows. He puts me to shame!
Thank you!
David – where in Holland do you live? I was born in Naaldwijk, though my parents were from Zuid-Beijerland. They had to relocate because the Germans bombed the dikes around their town, causing massive flooding.
Groetjes!
Peterj, I would have loved to have been at the tribute to Campy. Have seen the pictures and have the commemorative bobble head with Pee Wee wheeling Campy out. I always imagined what kind of year Campy might have had taking shots at the screen in the coliseum. But alas, that never happened. 2D2. Amazing how a young Dutch lad became such a huge baseball fan. I would think that one of your heroes later on would have been Burt Blyleven. Burt was born in Zeist. Had one of the wickedest curveball’s ever. Had the Twins been a better team, he would have won 300 easily. Won 17 games for the Angels when he was 38. I had the pleasure of visiting Holland when I was stationed in Germany. The wife, my kids and I took a road trip up to Holland and Belgium. I wanted to see Bastogne. The Dutch were such nice people. Got the kids some wooden shoes, doesn’t everyone buy those when they go there? Beautiful country. Went to Amsterdam and a couple of coastal towns. Wish I could have stayed longer and seen more. Next to Austria, I thought it was the nicest place I went to while stationed in Germany. Salzburg Austria was amazing. Except for it’s history, so was Bertchtesgarden. Germany.
Rob – really enjoyed your post today, absolutely outstanding.
Michael and Pete, your stories are wonderful too,
Hope you are all keeping safe. Good to hear Kenley is ok.
Watford my Man – Great reading your voice!!!
Hope all is well with you and yours…
Did you have your Golf Extravaganza here in Cali???
Be safe mi amigo…
The first team to get everyone infected and recovered will win!
😉
Man (Woman), I have really missed baseball. I know these intra-squad games don’t mean much, but they mean something… and I love it!
and there’s Rios again. Wow!
Rios = The Dodgers main DH
2D2, I just fully read your story about growing up. My God, we are soul brothers from another time! My story is soooo similar to yours, albeit it a few years later.
We immigrated from India to the US in 1977. 7/7/77 to be exact (how can I ever forget that!). Like you, I was on the verge of turning 6 years old. Like you, my parents didn’t know a thing about baseball. Like you, I got thrown into 1st grade in fall 1977, and like you, I didn’t know a lick of English. I guess someone must’ve told my parents, “he’ll learn fast!” As far as I can remember, “We Will We Will Rock You” was the first song I recall in English.
Like you, I learned baseball playing outside on the street with the neighborhood kids. Of course, on a street with cars, we played with a tennis ball (and since we had little kids of all ages, the pitcher tossed the tennis ball underhanded).
Like you, I joined Little League in the Spring of 1983 and was on the White Sox. Once our little league season was over, I started rooting for who else, the White Sox! They were good in 1983 too, with Ron Kittle, Harold Baines and Greg Luzinkski. When I told classmates I was a White Sox fan, I remember someone told me “you know, we have a team here too, called the Dodgers, and they’re also pretty good.” So I became a Dodger fan. First favorite player ever? Pedro Guerrero. And, funny enough, like you, how many times did I fall asleep, listening to Vin Scully on my tiny transistor radio under my pillow! Luckily the Dodgers were good in 1983 as well, except for losing to Philly in the NLCS after beating them 11-12 times that regular season.
My first game was in 1984. My dad’s uncle took me, field box seats behind the visitor dugout. Naturally, the Giants beat us 6-4 in 10 innings, and I’ve hated the Giants since.
And, to bring this full circle: you grew up in Artesia/Cerritos. Now, that area is the Little India of Socal!
Great story, thanks. Good to know we’ve lived similar experiences!!
Thanks for sharing Bobby. It’s nice to learn that about you. I was aware that Pioneer Boulevard had transitioned to Little India. A few years back, I went to Artesia to go to the Dutch Bakery. The bakery was no longer there, but I got to enjoy some wonderful Indian cuisine.
We lived off Leffingwell between Lambert and Santa Gertrudes, across and a block down the street from the Rockview Dairy. Left in 1997 and we were still catching the occasional whiff of Dairy Valley.
I had no idea that Pioneer had changed so much. My son’s school was on Pioneer in Norwalk. I enjoy reading your memories of the area.
My son never had any interest in baseball, it was all soccer, all the time for him.
Many things are gone. The first time I ever went to Knotts, they still had a stand on the corner near the carousel where they sold their jams. Last time I was in Calif, last year, I hardly recognized my high school. The baseball and athletic field has been totally redone. As for Hermosa and Redondo Beach, nothing is like it was in my youth. Way too crowded these days.
I think you are referring to Bobby. Mark was ancient in 1983.
FYI. Dodgers placed a large black tarp in CF to enhance the batters eye, Max Muncy is a happy guy about now.
Kelly Preston, who starred in For Love of the Game with Costner and was married to John Travolta, died at 57 from breast cancer. RIP Kelly.