Archive for September 2014

The Way We ARE!!

The names are Gordon, Butler, Shields, Holland, Perez, Hosmer, Aoki, Escobar, Infante, Dyson, and Duffy – to name a few.  They didn’t believe the bad report – that they were destined to lose.  They played like they knew they could win. Sure there were ups and downs, but they never acted like losers.

I posted this blog two years ago, in May of 2012.  It is one of my favorites:

“The Way We Were”

I went to my first Royals baseball game of the season last week and, oh, the memories that were stirred.  I’ve loved the game my entire life.  When I moved to the Midwest with my family from California at the age of ten, I remember being a die-hard Dodgers fan along with my dad.  It took a year or two to be converted to a Cardinals fan; but then, much to the dismay of my cousin Benton who moved the same time we did, I finally converted … the days of Bob Gibson, Steve Carlton, Orlando Cepeda, Lou Brock, Tim McCarver, and Joe Torre.  I knew the lineup, and I knew them all.  One of my dreams was to someday attend a professional game.  I wanted to play baseball instead of softball, but that just wasn’t allowed.

I settled northwest of my southern Missouri home as an adult – in Kansas City – and finally converted to a Royals fan.  What a fabulous team they had in “the day” … George Brett, Frank White, Willie Wilson, Hal McRae, Dennis Leonard, Bret Saberhagen, Paul Splittorff, Amos Otis, Dan Quisenberry, Charlie Leibrandt, John Mayberry, and Fred Patek … to name a few (or a lot).  In those days, you had to purchase tickets far in advance just to get nosebleed seats, unless you were fortunate enough be a season-ticket holder.  Being the early days of my career, that seemed an impossible feat, but I thought – maybe someday when I am more established.  I attended my first professional game with my dad and sister at Kauffman Stadium, then known as Royals Stadium, in my early twenties. I remember being invited by a friend a couple of times to sit with her in her mom’s company’s season-ticket seats – just a few rows back above the third-base dugout.  What a treat!  I watched the kissing bandit make her way down the aisle past us and onto the field to “lay one on” George Brett one of those special Sunday afternoons (eventually that came to a halt); and I remember Mr. & Mrs. Kauffman leaning out from their suite window waving to the crowd between innings, Mrs. K waving her white hanky slowly, back and forth – just like the royal lady she was.

Oh, yes, the white hanky …  well, this is the way I remember the invention of the “rally rag.”  Perhaps someone came up with it before then, but this is my recollection of the first time in Kansas City.  I was listening to the game on the radio one evening.  The Royals were down a few runs late in the game.  We were closing the gap and maybe there were even two outs.  I remember the announcer saying Frank White had picked up a towel in the dugout and was waving it around to get everyone pumped up.  Well, it worked, and it spread like wild fire.  Fans and players alike started waving anything white they could find.  The Royals did come back and win that game and, thus, marked the debut of the rally rag.  Yes, those were the days.  It was acceptable in those days to even skip the last part of the church service on Sunday morning if you were lucky enough to have “those” seats for an afternoon game.

How fitting it was that the year my first son was born, the Royals finally won the World Series.  He was four-months old when I spread a blanket out on the living room floor, dressed him in his #5 “George Brett” suit, and we watched the final game.  I had entered my name in the selection process that year to buy American League playoff tickets and was present at game three on a Friday night when George hit two home runs.

I tried desperately to describe those days to my sons several years later when the Royals struggled just to stay out of the cellar.  The boys simply couldn’t imagine.  They were busy playing the game themselves – and so was I – managing two of their teams and traveling across the country with another one playing on a hotshot team.  You couldn’t live in our house and not play baseball.  :-)

Spoungeball

Sandlot Team

We played baseball spring, summer, and fall with a brief break in the dead of winter.  We had a batting cage in the backyard and practiced in a cave in the winter.  Our bags were full of bats and gloves of all colors, shapes, sizes, and impressive names – the latest and greatest.  And, of course, it was acceptable to wear your baseball uniform to church if you had an early afternoon game on Sunday.

ATM Knights

One time a co-worker told me, “I know you have great faith and God is number one in your life, but baseball is running a close second,” (as he positioned his left hand about an inch under his right).  :-)  Another co-worker a few years my senior, who was well past the baseball days of her sons, told me: “There is life after baseball, and it will be okay.”  I couldn’t imagine that when I was in the midst of it all.

NAM Hit

When I was sitting back last week taking in the sights of the renovated Kauffman Stadium, I couldn’t help but reflect on those good old baseball days.  I wonder if the Kauffmans would approve of all these changes.  Would they like the seats that took over part of the outfield fountains?  (I think Mrs. K would be glad to see they didn’t remove the fountains completely.)  I think they would like that we still boast the crest – a crown scoreboard bigger and better.  Those lights engulfing the circumference of the field flashing any stat or information you might want to know is quite impressive.  I think they would love the natural grass infield and outfield.  The blue seats are more appropriate for our team name, and I think they would be pleased to know that the original orange seats are now used at a local high school.  Maybe they would have dinner from time to time in the Crown Club and maybe even take a seat in the front row behind home plate on occasion.  They would likely be bombarded in the Diamond Club so doubt you would see them there.  Would they mind that “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” was replaced with “Friends in Low Places?”  (Not sure about that one.)

Being the entrepreneur that he was, Mr. K would probably understand that there is a time and season for change, and I know they would be proud to host this year’s All Star game.

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I remember one of my favorite quotes from Mr. K went something like this: if you want to become a millionaire, just be a billionaire and buy the Royals. He lost money for the greater cause, the benefit of the residents of the greater Kansas City area – the continued presence of a major league baseball team.  I, for one, am thankful for all of the Kauffman contributions to the Kansas City community that continue to this day and hope that the stadium will forever be called “Kauffman Stadium” because that’s what it truly is.

My sons are grown now, and my life today is different – a demanding corporate career, writing, attending the ballet in the new magnificent Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts, an evening of ballroom dancing once or twice a week, an occasional dinner out with family and friends, a concert or ballgame a few times per year, and I love that girl time with sisters and close friends.

Then I see that mother struggling to juggle everything.  She loads her gang in the SUV, drops one off at a practice as she drives another to a game.  If she’s lucky, she might actually get to see the entire game if she can arrange a ride for the one at practice.  And then she chooses her days carefully when asking to leave work early in time to see at least a few innings of her high school son’s game that starts at 4:00 p.m.  And hopefully she arrives in time to see the game of his life hitting a ball 400 feet against the wind to propel his team to victory or watch him strike out the side to shut the other team down (or perhaps she is lucky enough to have someone capture the moment she missed frame by frame on camera).  I have empathy for her but can say without reservation:

There is life after baseball, and it will be okay!

… love the game and life continues on …

Now for a few other present-day names:  Moustakas, Davis, Herrera, Cain, Ibanez, Vargas, Duffy.  And let me just say, it warmed my heart to see Guthrie interpret for Ventura during an interview after a clutch win last week, teammate for teammate.

Yesterday I traveled out of town for a weekend of activities surrounding a high school reunion in southern Missouri.  I really did plan to “live in the moment” and leave my phone tucked away in my purse.  But a friend honed in on the game on television in KC started texting me little nubs about the game, so I couldn’t resist and checked scores for myself – alternating between the Royals playing the White Sox in Chicago and the Tigers playing the Twins.  Holy moly, our magic number was down to one.  This could be the night.  After the football game, we gathered at a local classmate’s house for more socializing.  One television was already turned on  – a baseball game.  I mentioned to the host that I was checking the score of the KC game, so he tried to find it, to no avail.  Oh yeah, we are in Cardinals nation this far south. How could I forget?

By now, anyone and everyone knows that those boys in blue did it.  We have secured, at the very least, a wild card spot.  It would have been nice to see that celebration live, like George Brett.  (Was he excited or what??!!)  I watched the replays this morning.

Wild card – nope, that wasn’t around in 1985.  Heck, Sluggerrr wasn’t even born until 1996! Wild card, division champs – it’s all post season.  There’s a chance my sons will get to use their upper deck, game one, tickets.  🙂

This year, for the first time in many, many years there was a new song in the house.  Don’t Stop Believin’ replaced Friends in Low Places.  The fans picked it.  That makes me go hummmmm.  The new thing I see this morning: We’re Gonna Party Like It’s 1985 – I like that too.

For the first time in 29 years, life for the Royals and their fans (this one included) continues on …

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Blue October

I remember what I wore – soft corduroy plum slacks, a multicolored sweater vest, a plum tweed with a bold royal blue wide patch of threads running through it.  The silky royal blue blouse tied it all together.  My mother was excited to watch our four-month old son while we enjoyed a rare evening out.  First stop was the restaurant at the Adams Mark across the street, great seafood that night.  It was a crisp October evening, and I couldn’t have been more pumped.  It was exactly where I wanted to be and the only thing I wanted to do right then.  I had planned for it carefully.  With a little luck, my dream was unfolding.  The year was 1985.

The stadium rocked every night during the regular season.  It was difficult to buy tickets except for upper deck, in advance; and many games were sold out.  I dreamed of someday affording season tickets, but we were starting careers and had a mortgage.  Money was allotted for our home, and that was the right thing to do.  So several times a year, I purchased upper deck tickets; and a couple of times a year, I was lucky enough to use company season tickets or be treated by a friend who had the same.  I loved baseball and loved the Royals.  I remember the Royals’ first appearance in the World Series – 1980.  My boss was given a corporate suite to fill and use.  I watched as my senior co-worker walked out the door early that one day.  She was selected to go.  She cared nothing about baseball, and I wondered if she even knew which team the Royals were playing that evening.  Oh well, I watched from home and accepted that seniority and age come with privileges.  After all, I was a young, confident 20-something whippersnapper and would have many more opportunities.  She was 60-something.

Five years later when the post season rolled around, I decided I would see if I could buy tickets and not depend on someone to treat me.  Things were done differently in those days.  I remember sending a check (or possibly money order) in the mail with a request for the American League Championship Series.  You were permitted to request only one – either World Series or League Championship Series.  There were no guarantees, and selection was random.  Since our track record was not good to actually get to the World Series, I opted for the League Championship Series and waited.  I can assure you that I crossed all the Ts and dotted all the Is.  I was elated when I received an envelope in the mail with two tickets instead of a refund, upper deck down the line between 1st and right field – game 3 – Friday, October 11, 1985.  Little did I know the historic game I would be privileged to see.

I remember Hal McRae saying at a pep rally before the team left for Toronto for the first two games to never give up.  If the team loses a game or two, don’t give up on us.  We’ll be back.  (paraphrased)

That was prophetic.  The Royals dropped the first two games in Toronto but came home to a hungry hometown.  And George Brett delivered the game of his life.  It was a thrilling win to witness.  George went 4 for 4 with two home runs, and the Royals won 6-5.  The “Royals” chant echoed through the spiral ramp on the way out.  Everyone knew that finally it was our turn to win it all.  And we did.  I watched the remainder of the post-season games on television.  We did not expect it to be the last World Series win, and we certainly didn’t expect 1985 to be our last post-season appearance for three decades.

Waited in line with the oldest for 2.5 hours, 8 months pregnant, to get an autograph that he wanted. He shyed out. (1988)

Waited in line with the oldest for 2.5 hours, 8 months pregnant, to get an autograph that he wanted.
He shyed out. (1988)

Life goes on.  I had two more sons.  And, yes, they all played baseball.  The focus was on their game while the Royals struggled, and struggled, and struggled.  We attended a few games a year, what we could manage around their own baseball schedules; but they didn’t know the excitement of those winning years.  Company tickets were easier to come by.

Fast forward to September 18, 2014.  I’m sitting at my computer in a virtual window waiting for my chance to buy post-season tickets.  (My middle son explained how it works now.)  I didn’t know if I would actually buy if the opportunity opened up.  I knew they would be expensive and the choices limited.  The telephone rings.  It’s my youngest son frustrated that the site isn’t working properly and wonders if I can drive out to the stadium to purchase tickets for him since he’s three hours away.  (I decline.)  He laughs when he finds out I’m going through the same thing, “You ARE my mother.”  My oldest son living far away in another state is still a loyal Royal and wonders if anyone’s getting tickets.

In about a half hour I learned that the youngest finally succeeded in purchasing two tickets as did the middle son, both upper deck.  I hope they get to use them and get to feel the excitement that I felt 29 years ago.  The “Let’s Go Royals” chant has meaning this year for the first time in their lifetime.  It’s been a fun season, and it ain’t over till it’s over. (Yogi)

Loyal Royals - 2014

Loyal Royals – 2014

I haven’t told them yet and they haven’t asked, but Mom splurged.  She has three tickets and pretty darn good seats in the lower level, just in case.  After all, seniority and age come with privileges. 🙂

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