IÆve always loved the game of baseball. WhatÆs not to love? A simple game-hit a round ball squarely with a round bat-with simple rules: reach base, move the runner along, and score more runs than your opponent.
My dad took me to my first ballgame, a Tigers/Angels night game at old Tiger Stadium, a game which the home team won. I was but seven years old. The Corktown district in Detroit, in the early 1960s, had not yet fully deteriorated, and the 1968 race riots were still a few years away. Al Kaline was my childhood idol, and I dreamed of playing major league baseball, of roaming the outfield the way Kaline did, of hitting for average, for power, and of winning a World Series.
Unfortunately, my parents had other ideas. IÆm sure they meant well, to protect me from dis ...
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Article written by J. Conrad Guest