A Young Baseball Fan's Rite of Passage

   A young fan's first Major League Baseball game is always a special occurrence that is unlike anything experienced in the game.   Players take the field and have long careers in the big leagues, but they always remember being a fan first and going to the games.  Whether it was your father, mother, grandfather or whoever took you to your first game, the feelings of excitement and awe are never forgotten.   A 10-year-old fan tunes into the games on television  just to be able to catch a glimpse of his heroes.  A lazy, Sunday afternoon in the summer gathering around the television with his dad, and grandfather hoping that Mike Schmidt will hit another moon shot, or make another spectacular play that will provide the dinner conversation for that evening.   He sees the stadiums, hears the crowd, and wonders what it is really like to be there in person.  Then one season the schedule comes out and he gets to pick a game to see.  Finally, he gets to experience first hand the sights, sounds, and smells of the ballpark that have been restricted to his young imagination. 
   For a young fan of the National Pastime, the first time through the gates feels like a rite of passage into the grown up world of professional baseball that he has heard the "old timers" talk about.  He hands his ticket to the attendant, and steps into the home of his present day heroes and can sense the spirits of the other great players that have played there.  "PROGRAMS...GET YOUR PROGRAMS!!!!" For a small fee, his father buys him the magazine that holds the information and names of the players set to step onto his "field of dreams" and play in that night's game.   Finally, it's time to find the seats and settle in for the game.  His first sight of the playing field provides an overwhelming feeling of just how enormous it is.  Who can hit a ball that far?   Then without warning, over the buzz of the anxious crowd,  a voice from the speakers above reads the starting lineups for the quickly approaching contest.  The young fan, frantically scrambles to fill in the scorecard with his inexperienced, shaky handwriting.  He takes a moment to look at the diamond just in time to see the home club take the field, and to hear the fans approval of that special moment.   They look like giants out there, much bigger than on the television.
   Now the National Anthem is over and at 7:35 sharp the home plate umpire provides the greatest announcement of the day.  It is finally time to play ball.  The young man sits in awe as he watches foul balls reach the upper deck, 90 m.p.h. fastballs speed toward home plate and dazzling breaking balls baffle the best hitters he has ever seen.  He acknowledges his fathers skillful insight about a batter's stance at the plate, where the fielders are positioned, and the stains left on the turf by a certain hard-nosed, tobacco chewing center fielder.  He sits and takes it all in, filling in his grid using the tiny pencil provided when he received the program.  Have you ever noticed that a hot dog tastes better at the ballpark?  The game continues on until the last out is recorded, and it is in the books.  Just one more game in the history of baseball, but that particular one provides that young man with memories that will last a lifetime.
   That was me over 21 years ago.  On August 28, 1990 I experienced my first Major League Baseball game between the Los Angeles Dodgers and Philadelphia Phillies at Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia.  I remember it like it was yesterday, and the thing that never seems to stop amazing me is how baseball has a way of bringing you back to those moments in time.  The good times, where everything is perfect even if that feeling only lasts for nine innings.  Since then I have been to a countless number of games, but the feelings of wonder and excitement never seem to change when I enter a big league stadium.