what once was good

Opening Day. It always reminds me of my youth. The blossoming of Spring and the optimism that my Cincinnati Reds will do wonderful things.

We rarely attended games in Cincy, so I can remember each one. I thought, as an Innocent, that it would always be sweet. After one game where a young Don Gullett out-pitched legendary Bob Gibson of St Louis, as we were walking back to our car along the sidewalk amid the lit up glowing buildings sprouting high into the clear night, and dizzy with excitement from catching a wayward foul ball as though it were a falling star of night and strangers in the smoke-filled bleachers cheered for my miraculous catch, I promised myself when I was 'growed up,' I would move to the Big City, get an apartment close to the Riverfront, and walk to the games after work.

It never happened, but I still get somewhat of a chill, more diluted now, yet strangely drawn back to the game thinking about those years - in the days before grotesque salaries and performance enhancers.