|
stories > > > |
|
Baseball with Dad / By Betty J. Conway "Once upon a time there was a BIGGG house on a BIGGG hill that had a Dad, a Mom, one boy, Jack and three girls, JoAnne, Mary and Betty, who were all three years apart." My mother started our bedtime story slowly, with strong emphasis on each word. We all giggled as she said it. It was true that we did live in a big house on a corner lot on top of a big hill at 31st Terrace and Grand Avenue in Kansas City, Missouri. And one of the many fond memories I have growing up in that house was sitting at night in the quiet expanse of the yard listening with my dad to the Kansas City Blues baseball games. He and my mother were both avid baseball fans, although the only time I remember my dad going to a game was on opening day with some of his buddies. My folks could not afford to go more often - World War II had just ended and money was not plentiful. As darkness fell, we sought the comfort of the large wooden, white Adirondack chairs which adorned our yard. The leaves of several large cottonwood trees whistled as the wind of the dark moonlit night blew. Off to the side of the house and outside the side door was a kidney shaped concrete fishpond painted blue so the water would take on an eye appealing hue. The banks of this pond were covered with various green ground covers which served as a home for nestling crickets who delighted us with their uncanny squeaky cries. Beyond the fishpond was a five foot split rail fence with a grape arbour entwined. The sweet fragrance of the grapes would sometimes surround us depending upon the direction of the wind. The house faced south so we could feel the soft bursts of wind from the south and west. As we sat surrounded by all the wispy lilac and spirea bushes we were completely secluded from the street and only an occasional clank of the street car a few blocks away disturbed the night. As an eight year old I felt very secure being with my dad and among these very familiar surroundings. My dad was a nice looking man who didn't show his age of 45 years. As he sat in the light of the moon I would watch the moonlight reflect on his balding head. His fair complexion seemed to match his loving and docile ways. He was a good story teller and often interjected baseball incidents from his past. One of his favorite stories was how each October a large group of fans would stand on the hillside facing the Kansas City Journal Post building on Oak Street. The Journal Post had a large baseball board that would light up showing the play-by-play of that day's World Series game. The board had an illustration of a baseball diamond and as a runner took one of the bases the base would light up. The board also indicated the inning and score. I thought that was such a long time ago. How nice it was that we could listen to the game on the radio in our backyard. Kansas City had always been a good baseball town and supported the Blues over the years. For many years they played at 22nd Street and Brooklyn A venue. The stadium had been built in 1923 and was originally called Muehlebach Field as the team was owned by the Muehlebach Brewery. In 1939 the stadium was renamed Ruppert Field in honor of the owner of the Yankees when the Blues were purchased as a farm team. The New York Yankees dominated the world of baseball during the 1940s. And |