Baseball in '73

Yesterday I discussed my selective memory when it came to sports.  For what it's worth, my memory regarding sporting events is hardly perfect.

Last weekend I was weeding out boxes of belongings that I hadn't seen in awhile.  One such box provided three scorecards that I had filled out of Cubs' games from the 1970's.  This was in the post-'69 hangover phase when the Cubs once again faded into whatever state is below mediocrity.  Thankfully, I was able to see some very fine players play in Wrigley Field. 

There are some interesting notes about the times that the scorecards revealed.  The scorecards themselves cost .15 and .20.  Lower box tickets back then cost $3.75.  A Schlitz beer cost .55.  No, these are not post-war prices; these are prices during the Nixon era.

There were only twelve teams in each league.  Such luminaries as Rollie Fingers, Catfish Hunter, Tom Seaver, Ferguson Jenkins, Jim Palmer, Don Sutton and Steve Carlton were pitching to the likes of Willie Stargell, Henry Aaron, Ron Santo, Dusty Baker, Rick Monday and Al Oliver.  Only five years earlier the mound had been lowered, divisional playoffs had been introduced four years earlier and I had begun to play T-ball three years earlier.

Such was my lot that the only players whom I could convince to give me their autographs were the immortal Gene Hiser, Vic Harris and Bill Bonham.  Almost forty years later I remember one of them clearly, the second's name and the third results in a shoulder shrug.

The scorekeeping is what you'd expect from a twelve-year-old.  No record of pitches is evident, the strikeouts are all of the same variety so I have no idea whether the batter swung or was caught looking and in some places there seems to be some confusion as to what actually happened. 

But what the scorecards contain makes their preservation worth it.  I saw Henry Aaron hit his 702nd career home run.  Early the next season he would break the legendary Babe Ruth's record for career home runs.  I saw players whose careers would later gain them entry into Cooperstown:  Aaron, Willie Stargell, Ferguson Jenkins, Ron Santo and Billy Williams.  I saw a pitcher who would later throw a controversial no-hitter that he would contend should have been a perfect game.  I saw a player, Rick Monday, who would save the American flag from being burnt in Dodger Stadium.  I saw these players in the flower of their youth and in the twilight of their careers.  I saw my dreams on a glorious field where they would forever remain.

A little less than a year later, the president resigned in shame.  Almost two years later we withdrew from the conflict in Vietnam.  But for these three days, I was a twelve-year-old child engaged in the sort of escapism that still to this day thrills my being.  Thankfully, for whatever they're worth, I have a record of those days.

(c) 2012 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles