Well, it really did not start with the bopper bat. It started at BI Hospital. The son of a baseball obsessed father and a sane mother, his first stop leaving the hospital was Fenway Park. No Sox game at the time, so his Yankee Fan father wanted his first visit in Boston to be the Green Monster. Was this because he wanted to tell Lou about the Bucky Dent game OR because his dad wanted him to begin his journey of seeing all the major league ballparks as soon as possible?
Enjoy the photos of Lou through the years - from the Phillies to Melling to RL to BC.
Remember Go Yankees!!!!
Our Yankee Fan in his younger years!
From HS to BC
A Well Known Place
As I eagerly step out of my father’s van, I immediately notice the pungent smell of roasted peanuts and beer. I am but a few feet from my car when I’m first approached by a friendly looking stranger. My dad knowingly shakes his head before the scalper can even mutter a word. The unfazed man continues to the car next to mine and repeats his ongoing spiel once again. We walk under the aging railroad tracks dodging footballs and baseballs thrown by other attendees until we step onto an open field. Then, the most glorious figure in all the world appears in front of us, the old ball park in the Bronx, as majestic as ever. We continue through the hustle of the crowd past the bustling basketball courts. There is no rap being played today. All the radios have but one sound emitting from their booming speakers, that of the voice of John Sterling. The Yankee radio voice is speaking of David Cone’s breaking ball and what it does to right handed batters. As we near the gate, my dad hands me the cherished ticket. The feeling of the ticket in my sweaty hands excites me as I hold onto it for dear life. We walk confidently and quickly through the turnstile and go up the ramps to the upper deck in right field. I look down upon the facade and Monument Park and look across the Stadium at the George Washington Bridge. By the time we reach our destination only one Ranger is still taking batting practice, Juan Gonzalez. His figure strikes fear into all knowledgeable Yankee fans. I sit down in the firm blue seat, not able to think of a place I’d rather be. The raucous crowd of almost fifty-eight thousand people is already shouting the so familiar “Let’s Go Yankees” chant. The cheer gets louder and louder as it drowns out the traditional organ music coming from center field. Now the ground’s crew rakes up the infield. Soon it will be in the pristine shape, necessary for the game. An obese man plops next to us and is already carrying two boiled hotdogs and a frosty soda. The unmistakable aroma invades my nostrils and I almost instantaneously call for a hotdog from a nearby vender. Then we hear Bob Shepard, the Yankee P.A. man for over 50 years. He announces “The Star Spangled Banner” and a brief temporary silence falls over the massive crowd. The nervous singer is a mere three forth of the way through when the throbbing chant commences once again. We sit back into our snug seats and get ready for the start of The Game.
