I walked down the street

I walked down the street, and noticed a man on the corner...

staring,

into the empty field...

He glanced my way, in that knowing way people have when they are being stared at themselves...

"Son," he smiled at me...

"There was once a ballpark here."

"Right past that tree...there...see?

"Right across the way...

"I'd hold my father's hand, and take in the crowd...

"The vendors on the street, the crowds gay, excited...

"Hoping Dad would buy me a hot dog, and hoping to see a win.

"We almost always did, you know...

"Or so it seemed...

"Do you remember it, son?"

"Of course, you don't. How could you?"

Frowning for a moment, he turned to me with a grin...

"Would you like to see it with me?

"Would you, lad?"

Extending his hand, I gave him mine, and we crossed the wide thoroughfare...

He pointed at the wide field, and said...

"There, we used to park there...and those speakers were already dancing with music..."

"and we'd walk up to the gate...right over there...

"You could smell the hot dogs, and the peanuts, and the beer...

"I can even smell the suntan lotion...can you smell it?"

I went along, though it just looked like the big old rock and brick-strewn field we'd played in for years...

"Why, sometimes when Dad had been able to get them, we'd have tickets to the Hit and Run Club...and we'd go down there before the game and eat, and there would be players there...as close to me as you are...and they'd smile at me, and tousle my hair, and ask me what position I played...

"And I'd answer right back, why, third base, of course. I pitch, too, but I like third, because Brooks plays third. One day, I'd like to play third base right here..."

Smiling, the man looked at me..."But I never did."

"I lost that dream, somewhere...in the years. I'm not really sure where it went, but one day, it was gone.

"But THERE, out THERE, that was the bleachers, the place for the Dugout Club...10 games for 10 bucks...we'd walk all the way to the side of the horseshoe, and come out...to a sea of green...it was so green, it would make your eyes hurt a little...

"I only wanted to be out there once, just shagging a fly ball. I thought, "If I could ever do that, my life would be complete."

"But I never did, and life went on anyway...and so, I guess, did the Ballpark."

"I guess we never think about what's going to happen to us...that the cotton candy days will end one day...and that we'll suddenly find ourselves different...different forever...

"And the places we used to go, the places that really meant something to us, even they go, too.

"Do you play ball, son?"

"Sure," I answered. "I want to be the next Ed Rogers !"

The man smiled. "Oh, he's a good one. I hope you make it, son. Just do your best. That's all anyone can ask for."

"It's so hard to believe it's gone" he sighed. "The roar of the crowd as you made you way down the street, late because Dad couldn't find a place to park...the gnats and bugs flying around the light towers when we'd be sitting high behind home plate on a hot summer's night...the talking to people in the parking lot as we'd wait for people to come back to their cars when we were blocked in parking across the street...and then there were the games...good teams, bad teams, winning, losing; but always fun...

"There once was a ballpark here...but now...

it's gone."

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