I have a "date" for the baseball game tonight. My granddaughter, age 7 (and a half), won two tickets to the local Class A minor league team, the Missoula Osprey.
She won the tickets last week by being the fastest pitcher in the girls' division at the fast-pitch competition. She was with her parents and they said she could take grandpa, Gruggers, to the game if she wanted to, assuming that I would be agreeable. Of course I am!
This girl has an arm, and an aggressive stance at the plate that bodes ill for future pitchers that face to face her at bats. She is fun to watch, and is a real tiger.
I remember my very first major league baseball game like it was yesterday.
1965, in San Francisco, Giants vs. Pittsburgh Pirates. A double-header and both games went in to extra innings. Twenty-four innings in all. And I got to see Willy Mays play center field. In his prime.
My friend and I were visiting San Francisco as part of a Naval Reserve summer cruise on a U.S. Navy Destroyer. We were in uniform when we arrived at Candlestick Park and some guy walked up to us and handed us two tickets. Good Seats, too, along the Third Base Line.
Baseball. What a great way to spend an afternoon or evening with a grandchild. She (and I) will never forget it.
