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Every fan dreams of
catching a ball in the stands at a big league baseball
game. My first |
trip to a major league ball park took place in 1959, at the age of twelve, on
a
field trip with my |
little league team. At the time, the Los
Angeles Dodgers played in the cavernous Coliseum, |
originally built
for the 1932 Olympic games. Some generous sponsor had awarded our
group |
a handful of free tickets
for a section of wooden
bench seats thirty rows back, high in the right |
field corner.
Prior to the game, during warm-up drills, Frank Howard, the Dodger right
fielder, |
tossed a ball
up into the
bleachers, and it headed on a line straight for me. Unfortunately, at |
the last possible
second, the kid sitting in the seat directly in front of me
jumped up -- and the |
ball hit him square
in the nose. Blood splattered
in all directions,
and the ball bounced away. |
Thirty-seven years passed since that day,
and I must have attended a
hundred big league ball |
games in a dozen cities across
the country, but
not a single baseball ever landed remotely |
close to
me again. That is, until . . . |
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