i had a dream Sunday night, of playing baseball in a beautiful beach fog. It was warm and i wasn’t doing much more than playing catch, but i woke up feeling great, not about having to go to work, but about that dream, about baseball. It felt like….I don’t know…..like a life jacket. I guess I was drowning. I guess I am. Even a newborn baby’s breath begins to rot on the way home from the maternity ward. Diaper rash soon follows and wail wail wail? those blood curdling screams tell a tale, of being a human, to suffer and yet, we carry on. Put on your overalls boy and hop up on the John Deere. It’s your day.
That other morning, there was an interim period, no more than a few seconds, when the beautiful baseball dream faded and my life came gushing back to me like the window of a slurpee machine….all the blood gushing down the window and into my head and all I wanted to do was flush it away and go back to sleep and dream that baseball clear dream. But I was awake. It was too late. I was doomed…..again. I had this and that to pay and there were rumors that Canada would be getting dumped on this winter more than last winter and that the snow would last longer, possibly into March or April. I downed a cup of coffee and thought about winter and then Dylan came to mind, his “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.” I thought about him being raised in Hibbing, Minesota and Roger Maris being born there. I’ve thought about this before. It’s geographically pleasing like Aaron and Ruth being born a day apart is astrologically pleasing. Look at me….a day after that dream and i was thinking about Aaron, Ruth and Maris….Roger Maris, just saying the name pleased me, warmed my bones.
brewers baseball and things 
November 21, 2017 at 9:09 am
“Roger Maris” was one of the earliest names that I remember hearing in my life, in addition to “Mom”, “Dad”, and “Beth” (my sister, who’s birthday is today. Tim McCarver, too. I guess it had something to do with the 1964 World Series, and McCarver and Maris played for the Cardinals in that series, and McCarver was particularly a hero in that series, and I guess that my father had the game on the Zenith Black-n-White, so I must have subliminally heard the names. I had just turned 4 years old on September 1st. We lived in South Jamaica, N.Y. at the time. I had no idea who Roger Maris and Tim McCarver were, but I liked the way the names sounded; they had a catchy cadence to them. I remember thinking of those two names a lot, not because the Cardinals won the World Series, which I didn’t understand what it was and referred to as “the World Serious”, but because of the snappiest of their names.
November 21, 2017 at 9:19 am
Well, happy birthday to your sister!! and belated one to you Glen for September 1st. I just did a baseball reference birthday search. Apparently, there have been 51 other September 1st baseball birthdays including Rico Carty, Rob Wilfong, and Gary Maddox.
November 21, 2017 at 8:07 pm
Yeah, I knew about Garry Maddox sharing a birthday with me, but I forgot about the others.
November 21, 2017 at 8:14 pm
My sister was born the day before one of the most awful days in American history. I think that this country never did recover fully from the assassination of President Kennedy.
Another thing that’s strange is that my sister was born exactly 18 years to the day that my cousin Al “Bummy Davis” was shot to death. Bummy was shot to death on November 21st, 1945 at Dudy’s Bar and Grill in the Canarsie section of Brooklyn. I named my blog after him; don’t you think it’s about time that I WROTE about him? The problem with me is that I’m very lazy.
November 21, 2017 at 9:10 am
Snappiness of their names, is what I meant to say.
November 21, 2017 at 9:35 am
For me, it’s not so much the sound of Maris’s name that warms my bones as it is the struggle he had in 1961. It seemed like the New York world hated him for breaking Ruth’s record. That must have been psychologically trying, a real test and yet, he did it, a real triumph to me, an inspiration, to carry on despite what the world throws at us.
November 21, 2017 at 12:37 pm
or that’s too wordy. I should say…..For me, it’s not so much the sound of Maris’s name that warms my bones as it is what happened in 1961. It seemed like the New York world hated him for breaking Ruth’s record. That must have been psychologically trying and yet, he did it, a real inspiration.
November 21, 2017 at 2:44 pm
Good post, Steve. Your Slurpee metaphor reminds me of my mental state about 40 years ago when I threw away a baseball autographed by the 1963 Yankees. Just to think that I could hold the memories of all of those great players in one hand and not appreciate it is an object lesson in self-obsession.
Good luck with Winter this year and Happy Thanksgiving (American-style),
Ω
November 21, 2017 at 2:59 pm
Thanks Allan. Maybe you throwing away the ball was a sign of things to come……that great habit of tossing back home run balls of the opposition? I wonder if they reuse those balls? Happy Thanksgiving to you as well.
November 21, 2017 at 3:45 pm
In my case I think it was more a sign of stupidity, but thanks for your more uplifting take on my actions.
Ω
November 21, 2017 at 3:03 pm
You inspired me to look up that 1963 season Allan. As good as the Yankees were, winning 104 games, they got swept in the series, 0-4 to the Los Angeles Dodgers, emphasis on L.A. I wonder if the Brooklyn-Yankees rivalry still lingered at that point. Sounds like a question Glen would be able to answer or maybe V.
November 21, 2017 at 3:54 pm
I don’t know about the Brooklin-Yankee rivalry at that point in time, but as you know—there is a BIG SF Giant- LA Dodger rivalry here in NorCal. Thanks for the info, I hope that V or Glen can fill us in on the story.
Ω
November 21, 2017 at 7:55 pm
Well, all I know is I’m guessing that my grandfather (my father’s father who was from the Brownsville section of Brooklyn and was naturally a big Brooklyn Dodger fan) probably hated the Dodgers after they moved to the west coast. But I’m also guessing that the only team that my grandfather would root for the Los Angeles Dodgers against would be the Yankees. He HATED everything about the Yankees. I can’t imagine him rooting for the Yankees, even if it was against Walter O’Malley and Company. I’m guessing that my grandfather didn’t really root for anyone in the five or so years when New York was without a National League team. But he always rooted against the Yankees; that I can say for sure.
In high school I knew a kid named Kenny Blum who was not a fan of the Mets OR the Yankees, but he was a big Los Angeles Dodgers fan. I never met anyone else who was a Los Angeles Dodger fan where I’m from. I’m assuming that his father was from Brooklyn and was one of the rare Brooklyn Dodger fans who forgave the Dodgers when they moved west, and that Kenny just took after his father.
Since the Yankees and Dodgers played against each other in the World Series TWICE in the late 70s, it’s kind of strange that my grandfather and I didn’t get into a conversation about those World Series. I can’t figure THAT out.
November 21, 2017 at 8:06 pm
How did you happen to lose THAT, Allan? Did you throw the ball out by accident? I never much treasured autographs; over the years, I had Julius Erving’s and lots of other New York Nets stars (when they were in the ABA), Yogi Berra’s, and many other autographs of sports stars. But they were just on scraps of paper, and I just threw them in the top drawer of my dresser and forgot about them. I don’t know WHAT happened to them. I think I’m gonna write a story on my blog (I haven’t written anything since June) about a baseball that my friend Glenn Femminella got autographed by Steve Garvey outside of Shea Stadium in 1976. It might not turn out that great, but you never know, and it’s a true story. (Not that it’s particularly very exciting.)
November 22, 2017 at 9:41 am
The baseball was part of a prize package in the last Soapbox Derby that I participated in. It was a dumb decision during a cleaning frenzy—along the lines of “hold it in your hands and if it doesn’t bring you joy, get rid of it.”
The good news is that I ended up with an autographed ball to take it’s place in the Universe and this one means a whole lot more to me. You can find that story here: https://wp.me/p24idL-1kU
I look forward to reading your Steve Garvey story. Happy Thanksgiving, Glen.
Ω
November 21, 2017 at 7:38 pm
It’s like Bouton says near the end of Ball Four, all those years you’re holding the ball and it turns out to be the other way around.