Lifelong Dream Fulfilled: A Trip to Cooperstown
“We are fans of that moment, as much as we’ve been fans of any team or sport. It was the moment that meant everything.”
Charles Edwin "Old Ed" Neary.
Or to me, simply, Dad.
I have been thinking about how best to write this. Nobody tells you how to write this sort of thing, and I can't imagine there is really any good way to. How do I write about something that really brings no joy - and do it in a way that this man would have wanted? For it to be silly, hilarious, and just entertaining. I have no idea if it will go that way but I owe it to him to give it a shot.
Growing up, probably 90% of my conversations with my dad revolved around baseball. Some other sports would weave their way in, but baseball was his real sports love. As a kid, I had no clue who many of the players were in the stories and memories he shared. Sure, he’d talk about the household legendary names that he’d seen - Mays, Mantle, Rose, McCovey, Gibson, and so many others. My baseball education started to take form just like most kids my age, learning about these players and their teams. Pretty usual. But my dad certainly wasn’t a usual fan. He didn’t just leave the knowledge at a surface, easy-to-find level.
I remember him distinctly weaving in the usual statistics and numbers that every baseball fan knows (61, 755, 4192.. numbers that stood the test of time and meant something). But then he’d drop in things like Harry Lunte.
Don’t know who Harry Lunte is? My dad did. As if it were common knowledge. See, there was a player named Ray Chapman that died after getting hit by a pitch thrown by Carl Mays in August of 1920. You could imagine that situation as an interesting, albeit grim, baseball trivia fact. One might ask “what team did Chapman play for?” or “What year?” Or “What team was Carl Mays on?” Those are easier. But no, my dad asked, “well, I wonder who had to pinch run?”
Harry Lunte.
The Pitch That Killed by Mike Sowell. Really great book - I highly recommend it.
There were countless things like that where the weird, the odd, the useless, the absolutely bizarre facts and figures captivated his interest. And truth be told, I loved every one of them. It was in conversations like this that I learned of all of the great games he’d seen, stadiums he had visited, and hopes or wishes that he’d still like to realize. The main ones were the desire to see a game in Yankee Stadium and to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame. And a kid that sounded incredible, but also pretty tricky to pull off.
Many years later, now with a family of my own, I still remembered that wish my dad casually talked about. One of my best memories of my dad was when I was able to take him to New York in 2011. We headed to the Bronx to see the Yankees take on the Orioles. Our hotel was far enough from the stadium that walking wasn’t really an option for him. And getting to the subway and working our way through thousands of people would have been rough.
I hailed a cab and told him where we needed to be. His response “take the subway, I’m not driving to Yankee Stadium before a game. Fah’ get it!”
I’ve never done the thing where you slip a waiter or a cabbie an extra few bucks to make something happen, but I felt compelled. And it really was the only option. So I held out a 20 and said “How about now” - thinking I was some sort of big shot. The exchange continued with a “Come on…” to which a second 20 then turned his point of view. We were in.
“You want me to rive you to Yankee Stadium right before the game? Fah’ Get it.””
Right as we were exiting the cab in front of the stadium, a light rain that had started just moments before began to pick up intensity. Then, absolute deluge. Rain for hours. And not just rain. A torrential downpour.
I was certain the game would be called. It was delayed for almost 2 hours and by the 90-minute mark, I was certain this trip would be a bust. But Dad didn’t mind. He was loving walking around the concourse. Looking at the gift shops and memorabilia everywhere. We could have been delayed for 4 days, and I think he would have been just fine with it.
Fortunately, the rain stopped and the game was played. We got the full 9, and every pitch was a thrill. The Yankees ended up losing, which was a mild bummer. But we aren’t Yankee fans so it didn’t wreck us. That day we were fans, mainly because we were fans of that moment. Frankly, it didn’t matter the outcome. We made it there. And that wish from so long ago was realized. Nothing could dampen it. Even a monsoon.
NEXT DAY: COOPERSTOWN
The next day we headed upstate to Cooperstown to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame. I loved seeing everything the museum had to offer. But truth be told, the thing I was most focused on that will forever be the best part of that visit, was watching my dad intently focus on every exhibit, every piece of memorabilia, every artifact, and treasure. I was watching him relive the memories and stories that he so joyfully and freely shared with me.
It was like they were all being shared right back with him.
For a man that was so filled with stories that made you wonder, made you question if he was full of it, or just made you laugh and smile - Dad, you will forever be part of our stories.
Love ya, Dad. God bless you. You’re safe at home.
Charles Edwin "Old Ed" Neary
1944 - 2021