Summer Kickoff

It's memorial Day weekend. The official launch of Summer. This was always a big deal growing up. Suburban Little League would schedule a jammed schedule of games for both Minor and Major divisions at Stahl Field, and it was our chance to shine at that special little ballyard. Dugouts, lights, a real fence.
Then of course, there'd be Phillies games. A cookout at the home of some family member or some friends, a desperate venture into an icy swimming pool, only recently filled. There would be burgers, hot dogs, barbecued chicken, Frank's Black Cherry soda or Hires Root Beer and Herr's potato chips. And somewhere in the background, there would be a little radio and the soul of the Summer would be coming through loud and clear...Harry Kalas would be calling the ballgame. Underneath his smooth baritones you could catch the sounds of the ballpark, if you listened closely. Kids squealing in delight. The rise of the crowd and the sudden desperation as a towering shot hooked foul. The pop of the ball in the mitt or the crack of the bat.
All of that was clicking in the background like a metronome, keeping time with the lengthening days and the warming temperatures. Always there, regular as my heartbeat. Harry and Whitey, telling stories, laughing with each other, describing the game so well for me that I didn't even have to close my eyes to imagine it.
I was 11 years old when I went to my one and only Phillies game as a child. The Vet looked exactly as I imagined. I knew the place like my own home because Harry had told me about it so many times. He and Richie Ashburn would have such an enjoyable time together, they made you wish everyone had a friend like that. No matter how professional they were, they were locals at heart. Inevitably someone would send up a plate of brownies or a pie to the booth and they were not above giving a public thank you. "Hey Harry, wanna send out a special thank you to Delores Boncetti from South Philly for the wonderful brownies she sent to the booth" might be Richies' pronouncement.
They were having fun...they were kicking off the Summer for me and I was loving it.
Being a kid, I naturally didn't have the appreciation for it then, as I do now. How blessed I was to have grown up in a time when announcers sounded that way. Thank God they didn't have a Free Agency mentality like pro sports do. I would have hated to have heard Harry broadcasting for the Padres or the Braves some day. He was one of us, and he stayed a Phillie until...literally...his very last hour.
This is going to be a far better summer than I've had in the last 3 years. Things have been tough and my daughter and I haven't had much of a vacation together in a while. This summer we will. She is growing up and growing into a wonderful young woman. We've done a lot together in our travels. One thing we've never done, is go to a ballgame together. I think this is the year for that. I want her to be able to look back on a bright summer day spent with her dad in a sunsplashed ballpark. My only regret is that she'll never hear a game called by Harry Kalas.
She already reveres him because of what I've told her about him.
We have summer traditions of our own, my daughter and I. I only wish we had the same narrator.
Happy Memorial Day everyone...make it special. Make it something to remember when the cold winds of winter blow once again.
Play Ball!