Alive on Opening Day (9 page)

Dan spent several hours
each evening with Gabbie, either at her house or at his, and with
baby Troy. It still seemed unreal to Dan that he was suddenly a
father, and it hurt him that he had missed Gabbie’s pregnancy, but
there was nothing he loved more than holding his own infant son in
his arms. Dan was concerned about his relationship with Gabbie,
though, and wasn’t sure where it would lead. He loved her, and they
had talked briefly about marriage when they were both in high
school, but they always came to the same conclusion: they should
wait until they were finished with college and until they figured
out whether or not Dan had a future in baseball.

Once they were settled in
their careers,
then
they could decide about their lives together. In the back of
Dan’s mind, he was ashamed to admit even to himself, he always had
felt comfortable with that agreement because it gave him a natural
“out” in case he met someone else. After all, they were very young,
and what were the chances a high school love could last through
four years of college and maybe a fledgling baseball
career?

But Gabbie had stood by
his side, if not literally then certainly figuratively, while he
had been dead to the world for nine months. More than that, she
gave him a son, so the two would always be bonded even if they were
married to other people. He was confused, and it didn’t help that
he felt some hesitancy from Gabbie, too. She was not as
affectionate as she had been a year before, and Dan wondered if she
was having the same types of doubts he was.

So they spent their
evenings talking about Troy’s future, and about
their
future, too, but usually only
in the context of what it meant for their son. One of them would
bring up the question of where the two of them were heading, but
the other would invariably steer the conversation back toward Troy,
or to the events of the day. By the time he left Gabbie at her
doorstep Wednesday night, Dan’s head was swimming with
possibilities but clouded by the consequences implied by any of
them. More than ever before, he needed his dad.

Back at home, Dan told his
parents good night and confirmed with David that they were set to
leave early the next morning, then took a shower and climbed into
bed. He was too anxious about Gabbie and the game and his future to
sleep, so he turned on his nightstand light and opened up his
tattered copy of “The Boys of Summer.” He had already read Roger
Kahn’s opus three times, but it seemed like the perfect night for
one more go-round.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Road Trip

The trip from west central
Indiana to Cincinnati followed a familiar path down US-231 and then
east on US-50. It was the route David and Dan had taken since their
first game together in the early 1960s, and, even though Dan
realized by 1974 that there were much quicker routes to the
ballpark, he never mentioned that fact to his father. He was sure
David had carefully crafted each of their baseball outings to
ensure they had plenty of time alone in the car to talk about
whatever might be on their minds. As they headed toward what might
turn out to be a historic Opening Day, there was more for them to
discuss than ever.

Still, the general mood of
the drive was one of leisure, and both men were more relaxed than
they had been in months, notwithstanding Dan’s long hibernation.
Their conversation meandered from the Chicago Bears — David and
Dan’s favorite football team — to the Reds, and even to the Indiana
Pacers, though neither of the Hodges was much of a basketball fan.
They also touched on politics, and Dan could tell the Watergate
scandal weighed heavily on David, who had voted for Richard Nixon
in three presidential elections. Eventually, their discussion came
back around to the Reds, as it always did, and they spent the
majority of their time split between filling in the gaps in Dan’s
knowledge of the 1973 season and breaking down what they expected
from 1974.

By the time they were
within 50 miles of Cincinnati, they had decided there was really no
reason the Reds couldn’t get back to the World Series that fall,
and that their opponent would likely be the Oakland A’s, just like
in 1972. In order to win the rematch, the Reds would have to corral
the Oakland bats AND figure out how to hit Vida Blue, Catfish
Hunter, and Ken Holtzman.

“
Well, having Driessen in
the lineup all season should help with that,” David
said.

“
Do you really think he’s
going to stick at third, Dad?” Dan asked.

“
I don’t see why not,”
David said. “He hit well enough last year, and the Reds don’t
really have an alternative right now. It looks like Driessen has a
chance to be around awhile.”

“
You know who I really
like, Dad?”

David shot his son a
sideways look, then grinned: “Gabbie?”

Dan blushed and lowered
his head. He wasn’t quite ready for that conversation, so he said,
“Well, yeah, but I mean which young third baseman I
like.”

David started to say
something, but Dan wanted to keep control of the conversation for
the moment and continued on, “Ron Cey.”

“
Mmmm,” David pondered.
“Yeah, I do think Cey is pretty good. His glove is solid — all the
Dodgers are great in the field — and he looks like he has some pop
in his bat. Hard to tell for sure in Dodger Stadium, though. He
does strike out a lot.”

“
True,” Dan said. “And his
batting average is pretty bad, but he’s still young. I think he’s
going to be really good.”

“
What about Mike Schmidt?”
David asked. “You think he’ll be any good?”

“
Maybe,” Dan said. “His
power seems even better than Cey’s but he strikes out a TON. He
might strike out 200 times one of these seasons if he plays every
day! How did those guys end up doing last year, anyway?”

David racked his memory,
then answered, “I think Cey hit about 12 or 13 home runs, but his
batting average was under .250. Schmidt was close to 20 homers, but
I don’t know if he even made it to
.200
.”

“
Ouch!” Dan said. “Well,
they have a lot of work to do, but the Phillies are pretty bad
anyway, right?”

“
Terrible,” David
agreed.

“
Then Schmidt at least
probably doesn’t need to worry about his job.”

“
Probably not.”

The two men were quiet for
a couple of minutes, and then David eased into one of the subjects
hanging in the air between them. “Say, Dan, do YOU ever think about
getting back on the field?”

Dan knew the topic of his
baseball career would come up, but the reminder of the season he
had lost stung, and his eyes watered. He looked out the side
window, not able to face his father.

“
Geez, I don’t know, Dad.
I don’t think so. I mean, I’m not in school anymore, so I don’t
have any place to play, really.”

“
Well, it’s not the level
of competition you’re used to, but a few of the local companies are
trying to start up a league this spring. You could be HBM’s
ringer,” David said, smiling at his son.

“
I don’t know, Dad.” Dan
was hesitant. “Is it baseball … or is it softball? And is it
co-ed?”

“
We haven’t worked out all
the details yet, but I don’t know of any women who are interested
at this point,” David answered. “We’ve been talking about softball,
but we might be able to persuade the other companies to go for
hardball if we talk to the right people.”

Dan still wasn’t
convinced, but he could feel excitement building in his chest.
“Where would we play, though?”

“
The mayor has been part
of these meetings, and he’s pretty good friends with Principal
Skine at Rosedale. We think we can play on their diamonds if
nothing else comes up. And, if Rosedale does agree, then that might
be enough to get Ferncastle to agree,” David said. “But so far,
Donald Stetson hasn’t returned our calls on the
subject.”

“
I guess Rosedale isn’t
all that far,” Dan said. It felt like a “yes” to father and son,
and they fell into silence for another few minutes.

“
You know, Dan,” David
said as they crossed the Ohio River, “American Legion ball starts
in the summer, too. That’s probably more your speed, if we’re being
honest.”

“
No way, Dad,” Dan said
and shook his head. “I haven’t swung a bat in nine months, I’ve
lost a bunch of weight, and my legs get tired just walking across
the parking lot at work. Those guys would chew me up — I couldn’t
even make the team in this condition.”

“
You have two months to
get your stamina back, Dan, and I know your swing will come back
after a few sessions in the batting cage,” David assured him. “And
guess who the coach is this year.”

“
I don’t know, Tommy
Lasorda?” Dan joked.

“
He’s coaching Little
League in Milltown,” David deadpanned. “No, Dan, it’s Coach
Croft.”

“
Really?” Dan asked,
enthusiasm growing. “Sure would be good to see him again. To play
for him again.”

David nodded but decided
not to press the subject any further in that moment.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Opening Day

The Opening Day parade was
a blur of Cincinnati dignitaries, many of whom neither Dan nor
David recognized, and baseball-themed “floats” that were mostly
little more than cars with poster boards taped to them.

Neither Hodges man had
ever witnessed the spectacle in person before, and it was exciting
to see, but both were more than ready to head to Riverfront Stadium
and get the season underway by Noon. They parked in a surface lot
near a dingy factory that didn’t look so bad in the daylight but
which Dan knew would be downright scary at night. They pushed their
way through the throngs of fans milling about near their cars and
the steady stream of ticket hawkers lining up outside the
turnstiles on the west side of the stadium. By 12:30, Dan and David
were standing in line for hot dogs and Cokes on the inner concourse
and, from there, they stopped for souvenirs — a program and a
yearbook — and made their way to their seats down the left-field
line.

Dan and David had attended
dozens of games in Cincinnati during Dan’s childhood, but the
experience never lost its appeal for either man. Every time they
caught a glimpse of the surreal green turf peaking out from the
beneath the stadium overhang, Dan’s pulsed ticked up a beat, and
every first crack of the bat made him want to bolt for the field
and shag some fly balls. There was nowhere on earth as exhilarating
and at the same time comforting as a Big League stadium.

And, while left field was
usually the territory reserved for the worst player on the team,
that was not always the case in the Majors. When it came to the
Cincinnati Reds, a perch in left field was a plum position to be in
as far as Dan was concerned. Not only would they be within shouting
distance of Pete Rose, but they would have a clear line of view for
everything Dan Driessen did at third base. And when the Atlanta
Braves took the field? Patrolling left field would be none other
than the legend himself, Hank Aaron.

By the time Dan and David
were settled into their seats, players were starting to dribble out
of the dugouts and onto the field, and, a few minutes later, the
Braves began their batting practice routine. Dusty Baker and
Darrell Evans both took a series of mighty hacks, lofting several
balls into the stands, with some landing not far from where the
Hodges sat. Then a procession of lesser lights such as Marty Perez,
Vic Correll, and Paul Casanova took their cuts, but the Cincinnati
crowd, already large, was starting to get antsy.

There was only one
man
anyone
wanted
to see that afternoon: the 40-year-old Aaron, who stood on the
brink of baseball history. Finally, when it seemed Hank might not
take the field at all, Number 44 climbed the dugout steps and stood
in the on-deck circle, taking a couple of warm-up swings. As the
Cincinnati stands broke into cheers and applause, Aaron strode to
the plate and stared out at the cage which protected pitching coach
Herm Starrette.

Dan thought Aaron looked
rusty as he squibbed a couple of weak grounders through the
unmanned infield, but he got under a pitch and lifted it into
shallow left field, which seemed to be the turning point of his
“at-bat”. On the next pitch, Aaron’s famous wrists flicked a liner
into right, and he drove the ball beyond the outfield fence in dead
center. Aaron watched the ball from the moment it left his bat
until it disappeared out of sight, then nodded and turned to the
dugout. Good enough, he seemed to be saying. Ready to
go.