Memories of Dad and Baseball
By Judy Haegele of Harmony Gift Baskets
Dad died unexpectedly in July of 2006. Every spring as the Phillies start their new season, I think about how ironic it is that the Phillies have done so well since then. I remember talking to him as he lay in the hospital bed, wondering if he could hear me as I filled him in on how the Phillies did that day. You see, Dad was one of those fans who watched the games religiously, but never really felt confident about them. After all, how many years did the Phillies jump off to an early league lead only to sputter out at the end of the season? Or have a big lead through most of the game only to blow it in the 9th inning? Yup, no matter how big the lead, Dad would always say “It’s not over yet”. But did that ever keep him from watching? No way.
I was introduced to major league baseball at an early age when my father used to take me to Connie Mack stadium in North Philly. (This recently came as a surprise to some of my younger friends, but yes, there was a stadium before Citizens Bank Park and the Vet.) Vendors from work used to give him tickets to some of the games and he would always take me since Mom had no interest in watching the games. We’d drive to the Fernrock subway station and hop on a train from there. The train was always packed with fans heading to the game and kids with their gloves hoping to snag a foul ball, just like me. Many times, our seats were in the first row behind the Phillies dugout. We’d get there early and the players were happy to lean over the dugout roof and give me autographs. I wish I knew what happened to those autographs! I probably had the likes of Cookie Rojas, Johnny Callison, and Clay Dalrymple (who my dad referred to as “pop-up Dalrymple” - funny how after more than 40 years I still remember this).
In addition to the autographs, I had a big collection of baseball cards that I kept in shoeboxes in my bedroom closet. As kids, we would return soda bottles to get a little money to buy a pack of cards at the local deli. We’d always pray to find a Phillie in the pack. I had gathered up a nice collection of Phillies that I was quite proud of - until “the incident” in 4th grade. I had felt a need to take my Phillies collection to school to show them off to my classmates. It turned out to be a bad move as my 4th grade teacher was Miss Hayes; the same Miss Hayes who my mother had as a teacher when she was in school. Miss Hayes did not approve of baseball cards, or anything resembling fun for that matter. When she caught me with the cards, she decided to teach everyone a lesson and tore them up in front of the entire class. All my Phillies! Talk about a traumatic experience. There went my Jim Bunning, Chris Short, Richie Allen, and Art Mahaffey cards!
I’ve gotten over my 4th grade experience (well, sort of) and have remained a fan for all these years. I hope Dad’s watching his Phillies now from above and enjoying the winning seasons they’ve had over the last few years. To pick up the slack, Mom’s started watching the games on TV. Every now and then I happen to call her while the game is on and the Phillies are winning. Guess what she says. “It’s not over yet.” I guess she was paying attention to the games Dad was watching after all.