It seems that every year, about this time of year, around the time that baseball season begins, some of my fellow co-workers never fail to stop bye, kick-up their feet and reminisce about a largesse that we used to enjoy just a few short years ago.There was a time that a friend of mine was a player in Major League Baseball and every time he'd come to New York, he would call me and ask me how many tickets I would like. Every time. And, every time he was in town, it was always an indulgent spree for me.
GH and I grew up in small town Arizona. We have similar backgrounds. We both attended the same high school and we both attended the UofA. While GH is 5 years younger than I am, all Nogalians are considered family and we all share a certain kinship. It's tough to describe it unless you're from "Nogi". We're all cousins.
Some Nogalians believe that if you were to climb the highest mountain in the most remote area of the world, someone from Nogales would be there, had been there or would be somewhere near bye.
Nogalians are that prideful. Perhaps it's a Napoleonic thing?
Where I work, anytime the term "Nogales" pops up, all eyes turn my way and I flex my muscles or lips. "Hey, I read something about Nogales that......", or "I heard that Nogales is.....", or "Check this NY Times piece about Arizona and how Nogales....". I find it amusing.
Back in August of 1993, Wifey and I had just purchased a brand new car. We had decided that we should take it out on the road and see what she's got. The destination we picked was Montreal. Wifey, the Rottweiler and I all had a great time. One of the many things that we got to do while we were there was take-in an Expos baseball game at Olympic Stadium against the St. Louis Cardinals. The building is an admirable attempt at cutting edge architecture and engineering when it was built. It's a horrible place to see a baseball game, however.
I remember that soon after we had settled into our seats, I began to peruse the program that I had purchased. As I went through the team lineups I noticed that one of the players was GH. I mentioned to Wifey that he was from Nogales and played for the UofA National Champion baseball team in 1986. After a few innings I got the attention of one of the ushers and I handed her a note to be handed to GH. I didn't think that it would really get to him.
One month later, when he came to New York to play the Mets, he actually gave me a call. We got acquainted over the phone and over mutual friendships. He mentioned that his best buddy from high school and his wife were both in for this inaugural trip for him to NYC. After some minutes of conversation, he mentioned that since he'd never been to NYC before, he and another teammate were thinking of touring the town on Saturday morning before he had to report back to the hotel.
I said to GH that I'm off on Saturday, and that I wouldn't mind swinging bye and picking you guys up and show you all around. And, that's how this friendship with a major league baseball player began up to this day.
Over the course of the ten years that he played in the majors, in both the National and in the American leagues, GH would call and ask about if I wanted any tickets. I was such a whore sometimes. Friends and co-workers became instant GH fans. Some years before the season began, I was deluged with ticket considerations. Co-workers kept tabs on his outings and on any trading rumors.
When his teams would be in town, it became a party. Tailgating and all. Over the course of a season we would all get to know some of the team support like the wives, family, friends and plane pilots when we sat in the allotted ticket areas. Except for concessions, over those ten years, Fred Wilpon and George Steinbrenner didn't get much of my money. Furthermore, some of my ticket posse and "hangers-on" were more than happy to treat me to the beer, food and snacks at the parks.
Seats were always near the visitor's dugout in New York, Philadelphia, Boston and Baltimore. Thanks to GH, some close friends and I have had the tremendous pleasure of having been to those parks and seen games there with great seats. Many times behind the netting or in great infield foul ball territory. GH was very generous.
And we all thanked him with thank-you cards after his visits. Cards that all of us who got to go to the games on his account would sign.
I was thinking about GH today because in one of those thank-yous, I included a personally autographed copy of David Halberstam's "Teammates". Until Monday, David happened to have resided across the street from where I work. He once conducted a private signing of his book for many of us and I had him sign one for GH himself. David Halberstam was killed in an auto accident on Monday in Menlo Park, California.
Ahhh, those were the days. And that's what these folks come over and reminisce about. And they come to ask me how GH is doing these days and I tell them that his retirement is going well and dandy. Major League Baseball secured his future as a golf bum.
He e-mails occasionally to tell me something or other. I e-mailed him today to tell him I was thinking about him because of that book I sent him once. I mentioned that to "Harry The Proffesional Heckler" today.
Harry asked me if GH has any friends in the majors these days. Friends who perhaps would allow us to ride their coattails into Yankee or Shea just like we all used to do.
I told him I wouldn't feel right asking him such a question.
But if I did ask him, I said to him, and if he were to tell me who to call, I would keep it a secret.
*!*
posted by JerryNJ @ 5:07 PM
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