The day I became a fan

I remember the day I became a baseball fan. I had always been a baseball player, and a baseball lover, but until Thursday, October 16th, 2003, I wasn’t really a baseball fan. I have had plenty of memorable days as a baseball fan since then: walking into Yankee Stadium for the first time, teasing my great-grandmother about her beloved Red Sox going down 3-0 in the 2004 American League Championship Series, heckling Boone Logan and having him respond, catching a batting practice homerun with my hat only to have to the man behind me take it from me, and watching Ubaldo Jiminez throw a no hitter are just a few of my memories as a baseball fan. But without October 16th, 2003, I may have never become as obsessed with actually watching baseball games as I am today.

I remember October 16th because it was game 7 of a series between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox to determine who would go to the World Series. My dad sat me down for the 8pm first pitch because “you have to watch Game 7’s, there is nothing better in sports.” So my 12 year old self sat and watchedPedro Martinez have a pitching performance for the ages. I was amazed at the difference in the pitchers, Roger Clemens and Martinez: Clemens getting battered by the Sox, leaving in the 4th inning after allowing 4 runs; Martinez baffling the Yankees with unhittable changeups, blazing fastballs, and breaking pitches that literally went from chin to ankle, dominating the home team for 7 innings. It was getting late, and after the 7th inning I was made to go to bed with the Red Sox ahead 5-2 and Martinez probably coming out of the game to let the relief pitchers handle the rest. My dad sent me to bed, saying, “That was about as good of pitching as it gets, I’m glad you saw that.” I laid in my bed for what seemed like hours, thinking about the game and telling myself I would see the rest on Sportscenter the next morning. I couldn’t sleep; I was too much in awe of watching such quality baseball being played in such an intense environment. I was still awake staring at the ceiling when my dad eased the door to my room open and whispered “Ryan, are you awake? You aren’t going to believe what happened, come downstairs.” I sprinted down stairs and watched highlights of Grady Little leaving Martinez in the game and having their lead evaporate and the game go to extra innings. I came downstairs for the eleventh inning, my dad figuring that I wouldn’t want to miss such a classic ballgame. I watched Mariano Rivera, the greatest closer of all time, obliterate the Sox with just one pitch. Three straight batters were retired on his legendary cutter, and I decided right then to learn that pitch for when I took the mound the following spring. In the bottom half of the inning, knuckleballer Tim Wakefield threw butterflies that, at the age of 12, I said I could hit. My dad laughed and said its harder than it looks, he would have to throw me some knucklers one day and we would see how I did. I watched Aaron Boone come to the plate, and in one moment, seal my fate as a baseball fan forever. He hit a bomb to left field, over the famous short porch, and sending the Bronx Bombers to the World Series. I was in shock. I had never seen such a dramatic moment in my entire life. I went to bed and didn’t sleep at all, I couldn’t stop thinking about the game and imagining myself in Aaron Boone’s shoes.

 10 years later, I can still remember every second of that game. It was such a impactful thing to a 12 year old, to be struck in awe by a baseball game on television. It made me fall in love with the watching of baseball games, something I had never done because my baseball-playing career wasn’t over yet. Now, my baseball playing days are over, but I still sit down and watch baseball while I’m reading for class, or when the Yankees are on cable. Every time I watch, I see something new. I see a new situation, or watch a pitcher twist the batter into a pretzel with a curveball at his shoelaces. And every time baseball strikes me with wonder, I remember watching Aaron Boone, and I thank my dad for sitting me down to watch that game.