The Boys of October

Tonight, I am doing something extremely unusual for me. I’m watching game three of the World Series between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Toronto Blue Jays. You see, I’ve never been much of a spectator sports fan. I attribute this to both growing up for many years overseas (nine of my first 17 years), and to the fact that I didn’t have a male figure in my life since my father exited our family when I was four years old.

We move back from Costa Rica to Madison Wisconsin in 1961 when I was seven years old. Since my mother was very busy going to graduate school from 1961 to 1965 (not to mention being a single mom of three kids who had to support herself and her kids all on a $3,000 per year fellowship and whatever savings she had). I meant that during those early grade school years I was pretty much left to entertain myself when not in school. We lived in a very typical lower middle class suburban neighborhood where we rented a two bedroom one bath house for $100 a month. Having moved there from a tropical valley in the backwater of Costa Rica, I felt like I was living the American Dream. The best part about our neighborhood was that there were lots and lots of children and in the ways of the early 1960s all of the kids pretty much ran around the neighborhood like a pack of wolves. Our gang was partial to baseball and a little bit of football…but mostly baseball. Just beyond the boundaries of our neighborhood there was a vacant lot next to a gas station. I’m going to guess that that vacant lot was at least 1 to 2 acres and the only thing on it was a large sign indicating that it was for sale. That for sale sign provided us with a place to position home plate in front of it and since the lot was pretty flat, we were able to carve out a ball field of sorts. It was perhaps one notch better than a sandlot. We certainly didn’t have any lines or formal bases, but the vacant lot always had enough stray pieces of cardboard so that we could find something to substitute for home plate and the bases when we played. The infield and near outfield got enough play so that the grass was kept low. The further reaches of the outfield was covered in enough weeds to regularly catch long hits to cause a delay of game while the outfielders search for the ball. We had a rule that if the ball went into the long weeds on a fly, it was a home run, but if it went in as a grounder, it was a double.

I remember us playing baseball in that vacant lot many many times and I think it’s fair to say that baseball was our game of choice. As I recall, in those days they didn’t really have the kind of progression in Little League where the youngest kids hit off of a T or then got pitch to by the coaches. Consequently, they didn’t start players in Little League until the kids were nine years old. So when I turned nine, I joined a Little League team called the Dragons and we had jerseys that were green and white. I don’t recall, but I’m sure we were sponsored by some local establishment, probably a dry cleaner or pizza parlor. I had been a pretty average vacant lot player, so I became a pretty average Little League player. Because of my size, being bigger than most kids my age, I was always put in the outfield and usually right field. The best outfielder was usually put in center field so that he could cover a wide swath of right and left field. So, that meant that I must’ve been good enough to play, but just barely. I was a classic long ball hitter, again because of my size, which also meant that if I didn’t hit a long ball, I most likely struck out. For various reasons, I only played organized baseball that one year, but I loved it.

During my youth, I only saw my father one time, when I went to California to live with him (and his new family as it turned out) for a few months. My father‘s new wife was actually quite welcoming to me even though I was 5+ years older than her two daughters. I don’t recall seeing a lot of my father during that visit because he was off most days working, but I do remember that he was a big baseball fan himself. And he was, in particular, a fan of the Los Angeles Dodgers. Living in Wisconsin, the team I followed (to the extent I followed any team), was the Milwaukee Braves (now the Atlanta Braves). In keeping with the bicoastal dominance in the country, the favorite teams in 1962 were the New York Yankees, the Los Angeles Dodgers and the San Francisco Giants. Strangely enough, they were all New York City teams at one time in their past. The one and only professional sports game I attended in my youth was when my father took me to Dodger Stadium to watch game two of the 1962 National League playoffs between the Dodgers and the Giants. That was on October 2 and the Giants had won game one, so everything was on the line for the Dodgers in this best of three playoff contest. The biggest name in baseball in 1962 was Sandy Koufax. He was the starting Dodger pitcher for game two. I got to watch his famous lanky pitching style in what became a very famous comeback game that the Dodgers won to tie up the series. The Giants ended up winning the pennant and going on to play the New York Yankees in the World Series. The only consolation to us Dodger fans was that the Yankees eked out the win in game seven.

I very rarely watch any sports on TV though I am obliged to watch a little bit of football during the holidays when my football-loving family comes to town. But if you ask me what game I might watch, I would almost always say baseball. This morning I was at my stretch session and my regular Monday therapist (Albert … also my middle name) reminded me that the Dodgers were playing the Blue Jays in game three at Dodger Stadium. That’s the same Dodger Stadium where I saw my first and only professional ball game of my youth. In fact, 1962 was the opening season for Dodger Stadium. As an adult, I went to a few ball games at Yankee Stadium, and at Shea Stadium, but my most memorable ball game was in Toronto at the Sky Dome when I watched the opening game in 1990 between the Blue Jays and the Texas Rangers. In addition to Prime Minister Brian Mulroney, in attendance were both U.S. President George H.W. Bush and future president George W. Bush (owner of the Rangers).

As I was flipping through the channels tonight, trying to find a movie to watch, it suddenly occurred to me that game three of the World Series was on. The series is tied up one to one so I thought it might be worth watching two of the teams that figure prominently in my baseball viewing history go at each other to get the edge in the 2025 series. As unusual as it is for me to do this, it feels strangely familiar to be watching baseball and especially baseball broadcast from Dodger Stadium. When I turned it on, the score was 5 to 4 in favor of the Blue Jays, but then Shohei Ohtani, purportedly the best baseball player of all time (so says his $700 million contract – note that Koufax made $125,000 per year), hit his first pitch into the bleachers to tie the score. It’s the bottom of the 11th inning with 2 outs and Ohtani on 2nd and the score remains 5-5…for the moment. And…Sandy Koufax, age 89, is in the stands watching. The boys of October never disappoint.