The Sunday Memory Drawer - October 27

 

Nirvana for a baseball fan.   It doesn't happen that often.   Being there when your team wins the World Series.  I happen to be lucky enough to have such a memory stuck in my drawer of life.  Back in 1986 when my childhood team, the New York Mets, outpaced the Boston Red Sox in seven games.

Of course, I was also there in Shea Stadium for the infamous Game 6 when the late Bill Buckner couldn't come up with a ground ball hit by Mookie Wilson.  That set up Game 7 and the ultimate victory, which was delayed one day by a Sunday night deluge.  The celebration would have to wait until Monday.

On that night, the thick October air couldn't be cut with a Ginzu knife.  The Red Sox got off to an early lead and those of us watching the proceedings from the upper deck knew there would be a comeback.   It was almost scripted by the most hackneyed of Hollywood writers.  

As Met reliever Jesse Orosco inched closer out by out to the strikeout that would end the game, my best friend from high school and I had our arms around each other.   He said one of the most salient statements I have heard in life....at least, one that frequently is dominated by baseball.

"We need to enjoy this moment.   It happens so rarely."

Truer words never have been spoken.   

Such was the sage advice offered on October 27, 1986.

Flash forward.

I live in Los Angeles and now find the Dodgers occupying most of my baseball DNA.  I become a season ticket holder and I am there for Game 7 of the 2017 World Series at Dodger Stadium.   I think about my friend's words and prepare to embrace the glory all over again.

It was not to be.  You know the Astros cheated, don't you?

Waiting and waiting through some more disappointment.   And then, as the Dodger roster is primed for good things last Spring, there is...

COVID-19.

A truncated season is ultimately played.  There are no fans in the stands, except for a cardboard throng that includes me.   I miss my seats badly and that becomes an even deeper wound when the playoffs are executed in a Texas bubble.

Despite the hallowness of it all, I keep on rooting regardless.   I share the games on TV with good friends, including my childhood best friend who stood alongside me when the Dodgers' Julio Urias, in Orosco 1986 mode, got the final strikeout.

I repeated the words from 1986.

"We need to enjoy this moment.   It happens so rarely."

I noted the irony of these two euphoric moments in my life.  Both winning teams featured an outfielder named Mookie.

And, oh, by the way, in an even more eerie scenario.

It was once again October 27.

Dinner last night:  Mongolian beef from Chin Chin.