[CornFed]

I was not much of a baseball fan until I got to Stanford in the Fall of 1970.  In my freshman dorm I got to know a pitching phenom, Bob DiPietro, whose father, I think, had pitched for the Giants at some point.  Bob was gracious enough to invite me to join him to a Giants game when he received some comp tickets from his dad or from the Giants.  I had so much fun.  Bob held court and provided play-by-play and color commentary to the great amusement and enjoyment of everyone within earshot.  I had never realized how much was going on at all times during a baseball game.  I had been one of those kinds of people who think the only interesting thing happening was when the ball was put in play.  With Bob providing insight and humor, I had my first primer on the dynamics of a professional baseball game.

During that first game, McCovey hit a home run that spoiled my appreciation of power shots forever after (at least until I watched Barry Bonds).  We were sitting in the lower level seats along the third base line.  The sound of the contact was shocking.  My eyes had a hard time picking up the ball, as it was hit so hard that I wasn't prepared to see it leave the field so quickly.  Also, it isn't that the trajectory was so low.  It was that there was virtually no trajectory.  I seriously believe (though I'm sure my memory has enhanced this) that the ball was still rising when it hit the back of an empty seat in the upper deck in right field.  The ball struck that surface with such force that the sound was clear and sharp, and it bounced off that seat and rebounded all the way back onto the field.  I was dumbstruck.

And so began my long and gradual education about the joy of baseball.  I moved back to SF in 1981.  McCovey had retired the previous year, but he was a genial figure at Giants games and I actually had occasion to meet him during a charity golf event at the California Club.  He had an infectious grin and a wonderfully open and friendly person.  It always seemed to me that he was overshadowed by Willie Mays a bit, but he was a guy who seemed to live in gratitude and humility.  Amazing for such an accomplished individual.

[CornFed]

I was not much of a baseball fan until I got to Stanford in the Fall of 1970.  In my freshman dorm I got to know a pitching phenom, Bob DiPietro, whose father, I think, had pitched for the Giants at some point.  Bob was gracious enough to invite me to join him to a Giants game when he received some comp tickets from his dad or from the Giants.  I had so much fun.  Bob held court and provided play-by-play and color commentary to the great amusement and enjoyment of everyone within earshot.  I had never realized how much was going on at all times during a baseball game.  I had been one of those kinds of people who think the only interesting thing happening was when the ball was put in play.  With Bob providing insight and humor, I had my first primer on the dynamics of a professional baseball game.

During that first game, McCovey hit a home run that spoiled my appreciation of power shots forever after (at least until I watched Barry Bonds).  We were sitting in the lower level seats along the third base line.  The sound of the contact was shocking.  My eyes had a hard time picking up the ball, as it was hit so hard that I wasn't prepared to see it leave the field so quickly.  Also, it isn't that the trajectory was so low.  It was that there was virtually no trajectory.  I seriously believe (though I'm sure my memory has enhanced this) that the ball was still rising when it hit the back of an empty seat in the upper deck in right field.  The ball struck that surface with such force that the sound was clear and sharp, and it bounced off that seat and rebounded all the way back onto the field.  I was dumbstruck.

And so began my long and gradual education about the joy of baseball.  I moved back to SF in 1981.  McCovey had retired the previous year, but he was a genial figure at Giants games and I actually had occasion to meet him during a charity golf event at the California Club.  He had an infectious grin and a wonderfully open and friendly person.  It always seemed to me that he was overshadowed by Willie Mays a bit, but he was a guy who seemed to live in gratitude and humility.  Amazing for such an accomplished individual.