⇒I When I was 4 and 5 years old, my dad and I would go to baseball games at the Metrodome. At that time, Chili Davis and Kirby Puckett were playing for the Twins. I remember every time they would come up to bat, the announcer, the late Bob Casey, would belt out their names: Chileeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Davis! And Kirbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Puckett! It was the start of my love for the game. -KV

⇒I grew up 45 mintues from downtown Cincinnati. I remember my father listening to the Reds on WLW 700 AM just about every night. Back then, the Reds owned the station and you could just about hear every game. During my formative years from 1970-1979, the Reds were the team. The Big Red Machine just rolled during the 70's. Marty and Joe on the radio. How could a boy living that close to Cincinnati, NOT love and follow the Reds? Playing ball and pretending your Joe with his arm flap and playing Pete with his switch hitting crouch. Growing up with the Reds during the 70's was an awesome time!

⇒Stories! I have a million of them. Memories! The transformation from knowing nothing, to becoming a star. The smell of a leather glove. The sound of a good connection, with a wooden bat. The smell of Spring in air. And of course bad memories. Such as, the politics in volved with sports. A quick story I was a poor kid, the second of 2 boys. My brother was 4 1/2 years older. And we were not very close. My parents were young, and both had to work. And sports were not a factor in my house. Two neighborhood brothers asked if I wanted to sign up for baseball, and get on their fathers team. I asked my Mother. And she said ok, if that is what I wanted to do. I told my Mom, I would need a glove. And it would have to be for a lefty. So she sent my Dad out to buy me a lefties glove. So, my Dad (who knew nothing about sports) came home with a glove that went on my left hand. Needless to say, a glove on the left hand, is for a righty. I ended up using this glove for a whole season. I just put the glove on my right hand, and learned how to use it backwards. As a result, whenever I found a pick-up game. It was never a problem using anyones glove. Even at the age of 54. I can play with either glove. J.L.

⇒My fondest baseball memories started at age ten , I would wait waiting outside the Columbus Jets locker room after a night game and get autographs from the Jets players as they were heading home. None of them ever refused helping love baseball even more. Try even to get close to a locker room today and you will be escorted out of the stadium. Priceless: In Cincinnati on July 29th, 1978, My wife and kids ages 8 and 10 walked down the runway under the stands undetected by security guards to the Reds locker room. I waited to get Pete Rose¹s autograph. He was very kind and gave me an autograph and even allowed my wife to take a picture of me with him. He had just went 3 for 5 and hit in his 42nd consecutive game. Pete was a true baseball player and a gentleman. The ³Hit King² belongs in the Hall of Fame. If baseball thinks he doesn¹t then they should close it forever!

⇒It I was born in a hockey town, but growing up in a family with limited income, baseball was just a more affordable option. Not that I really had the physical size to play hockey anyways. I was born the year that the Blue Jays began play, and with the Maple Leafs a joke throughout the majority of my youth, the Blue Jays were always the main focus of my sporting interests. My two favorite Jays memories will always be involving the demise of the Red Sox. Firstly, the day George Bell had enough of Bruce Kison throwing at their heads all day, and delivering a karate kick to that jackass. Kison had it coming for years. Later in the same game Ernie Whitt his a home run off Kison to win the game for the Jays. The second memory involves a late-June game at Fenway in 1989. The Red Sox were up on the Jays 10-0 after 8 innings. The Jays began to chip away and eventually, Ernie Whitt hit a home run around the Pesky Pole off Lee Smith to tie the game, with the Jays eventually winning in 13 innings. I always love seeing the Red Sox and Yankees lose. When the Jays start winning again, no one will ever to be able to accuse me of jumping on the bandwagon. Scott

⇒It was 1961, I lived in Northern Indiana, and my best friend rooted for the Yankees because he always had to win. Even at age 9 I thought it was wrong to be a Yankee fan if you didn't live near New York. It seemed like stealing, or knowing what you were getting for Christmas before you even opened your presents. And you were assured of always getting the best gift on the block because your parents were richer than everyone else. It just bugged me. I liked my friend but it was like playing cards with a person who always had a couple aces up his sleeve and could always cheat to win. I had only just chosen the Tigers the year before by laying out a ruler on a map and seeing if Detroit was closer than Chicago to my small town and it was--by a sixteenth of an inch. I was determined to be a fan the right way and not cheat my way to victory. Late one night when my parents thought I was asleep I had my transistor radio tucked under my covers and was listening to Ernie Harwell broadcasting from Los Angeles. It was such a delicious, forbidden treat. Staying up late, breaking the rules, yet still doing the right thing at the same time. My friend would never know the delightful contradiction of being bad and good at the same time, or to relish the chance of one day winning it all and beating the system. I was putting something on the line. He was playing the odds. I felt larger for the experience and still do. B.V.

⇒ The 1973 World Series was when I really became a baseball fan. The Mets were in last place in August and all of a sudden they just kept winning and barely won the Eastern Division. They had very good pitching but little offense. Suddenly all these players played the best baseball of their careers. "Ya gotta believe", coined by relief pitcher Tug McGraw, became their mantra. The Mets beat the heavily favored Reds in the Playoffs. The Mets almost beat The Oakland A's, the best team of an era. They were one game away from winning it all as they led the series 3-2 but they lost the last 2 games. I have never seen a team with more heart and spirit than the '73 Mets. James

⇒When I moved to Atlanta in 1970 I quickly became a Braves fan (root, root, root for the home team). Hank Aaron was beginning the last stages of his assault on Babe Ruth¹s all-time home run record. My dad and I went to the game when Hank hit # 715 to break the record. My dad and I always went to a few games a year until I was old enough to drive. Then I started going to many games a year (10-20) with friends. Even though the Braves were awful in those days (there was no worse team from 1975 to 1990 ­ look it up!!), I still was excited to see major league baseball.

⇒ I was a Met fan from the first. My dad was a Brooklyn Dodger fans. When they started the Mets up he started going to Shea. I was a Met fan early. My favorite player was Tom Seaver. I was crushed the day the local neighborhood maniac cracked me in the head with a stick and I bled all over my number 41 Mets jersey (stiches and concussion aside). Dear old Mom couldn¹t get those stains out and the shirt was tossed out. I fumed when Seaver was traded to Cincinnati for Steve Henderson (who didnt play that badly for the Mets. He would have had to have been the second coming of Ruth to have had a chance with me), Pat Zachary, Doug Flynn, and Dan Norman. We rooted for guys like George Theodore and Wayne Garrett. We rooted for Ron Hodges, Dave Kingman, Craig Swan, Lee Mazzilli, Skip Lockwood, Felix Milan, Willie (the stiff) Montanez, Joel Youngblood, and, of course, Ed Kranepool...R.A.