I began my first job when I was in the fourth grade, delivering The Cincinnati Enquirer early in the morning. I must have been out of my mind. But it did have its benefits. If I got five new daily customers early in the year, I got two tickets to the Opening Day game, to watch the Cincinnati Reds play at the old Crosley Field.
In those days, such an opportunity was considered an acceptable absence from school. After all, the first professional team for "the national pastime" were the only ones truly worthy of calling their inaugural match "Opening Day" (the outrageous claims of Messrs Bettinelli and Sullivan notwithstanding). I remember the "red hots," which had an aroma unlike any other hot dogs I had ever known. I remember an older gentleman in a dark suit and tie, who stood up and removed his hat when the organ played "My Old Kentucky Home." There were no big-@$$ video screens, no between-inning dance grooves to keep us in a constant state of amusement. It was only baseball, the way the game was meant to be played, in a place that had the history of the game written all over it.
Last night, the President threw the first pitch at the brand-spanking-now Nationals Field in Washington, DC. Big deal. (People were actually booing him as he walked on to the field. Harry Truman was about as popular.) Last week, I got a call from an old buddy who used to work at my agency, and now he's retired. We're gonna get tickets to watch the Nationals get their @$$es kicked by the Reds. Not that's what I call a night on the town!
And for what it's worth, I've learned to love the big-@$$ video screens. I just hope the Reds get it together this season. I miss "The Big Red Machine" from 1975. "It was a very good year..."
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