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ivan@stellysee.de
| From | "Franke, Dan" <dfranke@proficientdata.com> |
| Subject | Red Sox |
| Date | Mon, 1 Nov 2004 16:25:56 -0600 |
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My friend had tickets to game 6, which thankfully didn't happen. When The
Brewers switched to the NL, I had to drop The Cubs...which became easier
with the obnoxious FIBs invading Milwaukee every time they played, So I
picked the Bosox as my AL team. This was based on a haterd for The Yanks
and the fact that I already had a Red Sox cap. Anyway, the following is a
letter from my friend's dad (who was supposed to go to the game with him),
to the guy who scored the tickets for him - This sums up many of the reasons
why I love baseball (& it brought a tear to my eye):
----------
Dear Augie,
I've been struggling on how best to express my thanks to you for getting me
tickets to see my beloved Red Sox in the World Series. I was thrilled! Nor
was I disappointed that that sixth game was unnecessary. (More on this
later.)
I was fed a constant diet of baseball by my Dad, Grandpa Johnson, and my
mother's brothers (my uncles). There were no other pro sports--no football,
no basketball, a dim awareness of professional hockey. My home town,
Pittsfield, MA., had a Class A team in the Eastern League replaced during
the depression by a lower class league team. Two amateur baseball leagues
that played daily, evenings weekdays (no lights), days on weekends. A great
semi-pro team in West Stockbrige where my Grandparents lived. It would draw
crowds of 3,000 plus and sometimes played an exhibition game with a major
league team on its day off. I still have a baseball signed by Connie Mack,
the legendary manager and owner of the Philadelphia Athletics.
We played baseball whenever we could. After school. Summers, to the park by
8:30 for pick up games, after lunch back again and evenings watching a
league game. Equipment was scarce. Lending gloves was common. Baseballs
were resewn and finally taped with electric tape. My bat cracked and was
fixed with a screw and more tape. (These were the depression 1930's.)
And then always there were the Red Sox and the Majors. No radio, no
television. Two leagues of eight teams each. We'd pour over the daily box
scores. Since there was then no free agency, I could name the usual
line-ups of many teams as well as some idea of batting averages that were
published in the Sunday paper.
On July 3, 1934, I severally broke my left arm. No baseball. Dad took me to
New York, stayed with his brother, and saw three games at Yankee Stadium,
Red Sox vs Yankees. I saw Babe Ruth hit a home run as did Gehrig. The next
day to the Polo Grounds and the Giants of Bill Terry, manager and first
baseman (he hit .401 in 1930), Mel Ott and Carl Hubbbell. Next day to
Ebbets Field and the Dodgers managed by Casey Stengel with the pitcher with
the great name, Van Lingle Mungo. It was trip of my life!
Meanwhile my beloved Red Sox limped along. In 1933, Tom Yawkey inherited
$7,000,000. on his 30th birthday and three days later bought The Red Sox.
He spent lavishly on stars--e.g. Joe Cronin, Jimmy Foxx, Lefty Grove--but no
World Series. Ted Williams arrived 1n 1939. I think he was the greatest
hitter of all times and can go on ad nausea on that subject.
As perhaps I am already guilty of this rambling on about my 70+ year
obsession with the Sox and baseball.
The agony and angst of Red Sox fans is well known and I confess willingly to
be among them. I've likely seen over 250 games in person, not counting
television. Then there was radio starting about 1936 or 1937. Too many
times the Sox lost. I almost believe that I jinx them. Too many times when
I watch them, they seem to lose but do well when I don't. I know I have no
such power but I am reluctant to watch crucial games. When I quit watching
the recent Yankee series, they won. Jill would phone me. "Dad, It's OK to
watch--they won" So I tuned into the post game celebration.
But to see them in person in a World Series in Fenway Park was too good to
refuse, the answer to my dreams. You kindly offered a game in St. Louis,
the playing of which was assured. But it could not compare with a chance at
a game in Boston in Fenway Park.
Once again my beloved Sox betrayed my dreams. They swept in four!
I am delighted with the result. If I had been given the choice of the sweep
(and a Series win for sure) or seeing a sixth game (and the possibility of
losing the series ala Bill Buckner), I would have opted for the former.
So it is, Augie, that I am very grateful to you on two counts. I so
appreciate the tickets and the joy of anticipation. And in so doing, you
caused the Sox to WIN!!!
Thank you.
With best regards,
Paul
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