if these walls could talk

Ghost stories - everyone seems to have one, be they induced by mind expanding hallucinogens or a real life encounter.  Whatever the case may be I apparently am in the minority here. I have never caused my neurotransmitters to fire at such a rate that I see a herd of angry elephants charging toward me in my sleep. Nor have I had an encounter with the unexplained. What I can tell you about, though, is the feeling I get when I see this image (inset). You might be surprised to learn that this isn't a picture of the SkyDome..errr... Rogers Centre. The atmosphere created by stepping into both parks in their current state might be somewhat similar though. Rogers Mahal is a tribute to the way were in the 80's when bigger was a better. Essentially it is a monument to excess where now parks are built with the intent of building the very atmosphere that it seems to lack.

When I see this image of this diamond I think if these outfield walls could talk, oh the stories they would tell. I've wondered the very same thing when I've visited other parks around the league. I've stood and thought about who played their before or who walked the dugout tunnels. But I rarely do that when I enter the Rogers Centre. Obviously it does have its history, I'm not trying to discredit that. It has played host to some truly memorable baseball moments. And football moments. And soccer moments. And wrestling moments. And musical moments. And car moments. I think you understand what I'm getting at. It is a venue at best and a tourist attraction, not a baseball stadium in the ilk of Wrigley Field or Fenway Park.


image courtesy of:
www.baseballpilgramages.com

The Voice of God

Love them or hate them, the Yankees are a team rich in tradition. Two years ago I experienced some of this when I went to Yankee Stadium for my first and only visit to this historic building. You can't help but be struck by two things: the low ceilings in the concourses and some of the legends of the sport that played there.
    
Today, though, isn't so much about players like Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, or Derek Jeter. It's about the man that was the voice of Yankee Stadium, Bob Sheppard. Sheppard died today, two months shy of his 100th birthday.

From 1951-2007 Sheppard's eloquent prose reverberated around Yankee Stadium. His voice was comforting, yet ominous, like a grandfather who didn't say much, but when he did you listened. Anyone who ever had the pleasure of experiencing this, be it on TV or live, can relate.  He was to the Yankees what Paul Morris was to the Toronto Maple Leafs and Maple Leaf Gardens for so many years. Hall of Famer, Reggie Jackson may have said it best when he dubbed Sheppard "the voice of God."

He may be gone, but he will never be forgotten. Next time you watch a Yankee game, listen to Derek Jeter being announced - that's a recording of Sheppard's voice - the voice of God talking to you.

Revered Yankees PA man Bob Sheppard, 99, dies - SI.com

baseball is love

The other sports are just sports. Baseball is a love.

Those that know me know that there are very few things in this life that I do at a high rate of speed. Some years ago there was a hurricane named Hurricane Nate to which a friend replied, "Don't you mean Glacier Nate?" Touche.

Baseball, of course, is not a game of speed. It is a game of nuances and the unseen. To sit and simply watch is to miss the point. It is a game to be absorbed and appreciated under the glare of the summer sun. Kids play it and adults who still wish they were kids play it.

Growing up, I can remember pouring over the stats in the Saturday paper until I had most of them memorized. And Sundays were for popcorn and scoring the Blue Jay game on TV. These days I drive by parks at night and see them lit up and, like a moth to a flame, I rubberneck. Baseball stadiums are my Disney World.

I have been to the cathedrals of the sport - Cooperstown, Wrigley Field, Yankee Stadium, and Fenway Park - and didn't care if I ever came back. I walk out of the tunnel to my seat be it right next to the action or off in the far reaches of the park and stand in awe. Field of Dreams, my favourite movie, so eloquently represents this. Undeterred by all those around him who suggest he is certifiably nuts, Kevin Costner watches a cornfield full of his heroes play a game no one else sees. And that's what keeps me coming back for more. Whether it's a professional who makes you say, "how'd they do that?" or the Little Leaguer standing on first who just drove in the winning run and you're smiling right along with them. Each time it's something new.

Everybody has their passions - mine just happens to be a game.