Angels Diamonds & Gems

A cold January day, I sit in the food court at the Mega Mall, across from the sporting goods store. And my mind wanders to a simpler time.

I contemplate the death of the returnable soda bottle, and the demise of kids on bicycles, finding a direct correlation to this rotund, little Ritalin laced free agent in his new Pujols jersey. I observe this new little “Angel” fan with IPod headphones protruding from his ears. With food court snacks smeared on his chubby little face. I speculate if he is not better served with a bicycle, a pack of Topp’s Baseball Cards, with the waxy, pure sugar, thin stick of gum found inside every pack.

I surmise he has no measurable value, of a Julian Javier. And thus no understanding of, nor respect for a smoothly turned double play, let alone the hit and run. Lessons learned from the sacrifice of hundreds of Jerry Devannon & Horace Clarke cards to the spokes of a bicycle, along with multitudes of Moms old clothes pins. Baseball will go on.

I listen as the boy recalls Pujols, and bow’s and worships the home run.

I cringe, speculating that he and his friends are sadly tucked in bed by Siri on their new IPhones, never to experience or appreciate the beauty of a KMOX 1120 AM radio, it’s and 50000 watts of clear channel broadcast of a West Coast night game.

I visualize a sad legion of youngsters who will never experience a Cardinal game delivered to the ear and processed by the imagination Never to hear the intoxicating voice’s, served like a shot of Harry Carey. With a tall drink of Jack Buck to wash it smoothly down. To never comprehend the joy, of a virtual ice cold Budweiser so deftly plugged by a Moon Man on a hot St Louis summer evening.

I dream of Gibson tossing a 1 hitter, with a mental image of Willie Davis hitting the deck when he tried to dig in. There was no home run worship that evening, Gibson pitched a gem.

A five year old stands at the entrance of the sporting goods store, crying. I over hear the conversation. “Dad, he said Pujols was an Angel now, did he die Dad?” I see the fathers lip quiver, “Yes son, he did.”

I look out the window, curse free agency and daydream of Jupiter, Old Stars, Moon Men and Gem’s.

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~ by onthedarkside on January 29, 2012.

One Response to “Angels Diamonds & Gems”

  1. Warm fuzzy nostalgia. Nothing like going back on a cold January day. Reminds me of Springsteen. “Glory Days…gone in the wink of a little girl’s eye.”

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