My husband and I, on a whim, watched the greater part of a baseball game today. It was the Baltimore Orioles at the New York Yankees. As a lifelong Dodgers fan dating from their time in Brooklyn (yes, I'm that old), I don't like the Yankees, so I had to cheer on the Orioles. It was a futile endeavor, I fear, as the score when we left the game was 9-0 Yankees. Sigh.
Yes, I've been fond of baseball since my childhood in the 1950s. I was a tomboy; the usual girlish pursuits did not attract me. I collected baseball cards. I played "flyers & grounders" with a neighbor boy. I watched baseball games on TV with my grandma, and I was thrilled when my mother kept me out of school one day and took me to the baseball stadium in our home town of Jacksonville, Florida, where we watched the then-Brooklyn Dodgers play an exhibition game. I almost caught a fouled baseball, but I was carrying soft drinks back to our seats, and didn't want to drop them.
And just in the early years of this century, the Dodgers played again at our local stadium, and I got Tommy LaSorda's autograph! That was a big thing for me.
My one regret in my affection for baseball has been that my eyes are not aligned due to a childhood operation to correct severe cross-eye. I have no depth perception within three feet. I can't hit a baseball worth beans.
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