Knox The Hatter
2nd Level Indigo Feather
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2003
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My thoughts go back to a warm, pleasant summer night, way back in 1981. This night found me sitting in the seats at Metropolitan Park in Norfolk, Virginia. The hometown Tidewater Tides- then, and still, the triple-A International League affiliate of the New York Mets, were hosting the Rochester Red Wings. Perhaps Elias might be able to confirm this, but The Rochester Red Wings might be the longest, continuous franchise in the history of the minor leagues. They've answered the bell for every season, without a break, since 1896 or so.
I felt highly gratified that night, for two reasons. First, because I was sitting there, watching professional baseball, while most of the rest of the country was blacked out due to the prolonged players strike on the Major League level. Second, because my Love was there at the game with me. My Southern Belle. My heavenly angel, for whom I'd have jumped off the George Washington Bridge if asked to.
Two players on the field stuck out like sore thumbs. First was the Tides' first baseman. His name was...Ronald McDonald. Yes. Anyone who doubts me, well, I can produce printed matter as proof. Ronald McDonald! How he had to carry that name as an elephant on his shoulders! It also spoke of the asininity of the Mets that such a character could have played in their organization in those days. Well, that night, we had our obnoxious, adolescent fun with Mr. Ronald McDonald. We asked him who the second baseman was, Mayor McCheese? And, shit, it figured the umpire resembled the Hamburglar. Poor Ronald McDonald. The Mets finally cut him the following summer.
The other player was the Rochester shortstop. Man, there was a buzz about him! It was like everyone knew he couldn't miss. Every time he came to bat, the buzz in the park became almost deafening. He handled about three or four chances that night; his defensive ability was far and away superior to that of his team mates, or the home team. I'm not sure, but he hit safely a couple of times. The feeling was that this young man was truly the crowning jewel in the parade of jewels that the Baltimore Orioles' famed farm system produced over the years.
Today, after so many great accomplishments, that shortstop was voted in to the Hall of Fame. Where does the time go?
I think I'm going up to Cooperstown to see Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn's induction ceremony. Should be very nice.
I felt highly gratified that night, for two reasons. First, because I was sitting there, watching professional baseball, while most of the rest of the country was blacked out due to the prolonged players strike on the Major League level. Second, because my Love was there at the game with me. My Southern Belle. My heavenly angel, for whom I'd have jumped off the George Washington Bridge if asked to.
Two players on the field stuck out like sore thumbs. First was the Tides' first baseman. His name was...Ronald McDonald. Yes. Anyone who doubts me, well, I can produce printed matter as proof. Ronald McDonald! How he had to carry that name as an elephant on his shoulders! It also spoke of the asininity of the Mets that such a character could have played in their organization in those days. Well, that night, we had our obnoxious, adolescent fun with Mr. Ronald McDonald. We asked him who the second baseman was, Mayor McCheese? And, shit, it figured the umpire resembled the Hamburglar. Poor Ronald McDonald. The Mets finally cut him the following summer.
The other player was the Rochester shortstop. Man, there was a buzz about him! It was like everyone knew he couldn't miss. Every time he came to bat, the buzz in the park became almost deafening. He handled about three or four chances that night; his defensive ability was far and away superior to that of his team mates, or the home team. I'm not sure, but he hit safely a couple of times. The feeling was that this young man was truly the crowning jewel in the parade of jewels that the Baltimore Orioles' famed farm system produced over the years.
Today, after so many great accomplishments, that shortstop was voted in to the Hall of Fame. Where does the time go?
I think I'm going up to Cooperstown to see Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn's induction ceremony. Should be very nice.
