A trip through Milagros' fevered brain right now as we speak...
he's sitting there, as the swirling winds in the Shea Loge are turning his ears red, but he's not there, really, because it's the voice of Tex Rickards on the public address, Gladys Gooding on the organ, and Hilda Chester slamming her cowbell all the way up in the bleachers that's drumming through his head. In fact, there she is, you could see that loud, ridiculous print dress from here.
Everyone's still filing in, it's a sunny, cool day. It's the Preach starting today, against Vern Bickford...and you look across the field there, you can see some of the guys in the home whites talking around the third base line. You could see the numbers on their backs clear as day: 1, 14, and 39. Reese, Hodges, and Campanella.
The visitors today, the Braves, are out doing fielding practice, in their colorful road uniforms, resplendent in black tomahawks on the front and feathered head dress on the sleeves. The voices of the hot dog vendors, carrying their wares in wicker baskets, ring throughout the still half filled park, along with the calls of children, and the laughter of the group of men sitting behind you...firemen from Canarsie on their day off.
From another vendor, you purchase a scorecard, and get a free pencil with it. The scorecard cost a dime, and features a sketch of The Bum by Willard Mullins on the cover. Inside, you'll find mostly ads for local Brooklyn businesses. The actual scorecard is in the middle of the booklet, with both the rosters of the Dodgers and the visiting Boston Braves printed on both sides. The starting lineup is listed on the manual scoreboard , under which a sign reads, "Hit Sign, Win Suit!"
The air is filled with the smell of roasted peanuts and hot dogs and Schaefer beer and the hope that lives in every breast...
Enjoy, Milagros. Enjoy.