My Reds

I’ve always been a Reds fan. When I was a kid I rooted for Wally Post, Big Klu, Vada Pinson, and Johnny Temple while listening to Waite Hoyt on the radio. I loved them so much I dropped a class when I was old enough to know better just because the Reds were in the playoffs and I could NOT NOT watch every minute of the proceedings.

Back in the day I wanted the Reds to win so badly I prayed for ‘em every night. I can remember being on my knees and promising some kind of good behavior the next day if only Jesus would let my Reds beat those nasty old Pirates. Like the bike I constantly prayed for and never got, I doubt my intercession cut any mustard in the sacred realm. Not near enough influence in high places, I have come to learn.

Still, I love the Cincinnati Reds, win or lose. Unfortunately, there have been way too many mediocre teams and way too many lousy finishes over the last too many years. A 14 year-old grand nephew -- a true baseball playing Red’s fan -- told me he’s never seen a trophy-producing season in Cincinnati his whole lifetime. Ouch.

I was inspired to write this blog when I found myself smiling at the old Mr. Red mascot shilling for Skyline chili on Fox Sports Ohio during post game the other day. What was it about this character that warmed me? What did this mascot, pictured above, represent to me?

I guess I’d have to say, basically, is that it’s just baseball. It has the longest history of professional team sport in this country. A whole lot of us played it in the street. Generations of us were raised on it. It’s part of our American spirit.

I threw rubber baseballs up against Mrs. Gunder’s front yard retaining wall evening after evening, pitching to marks on the concrete block, and somehow learned to love the game. I played Jesse Haines league badly. I remember once getting caught leading off first base after a miracle base-on-balls and my coach impatiently said, “I told you to go on anything. Why did you take off before the pitcher threw the ball?” I was ashamed. Still, I stammered out that I had no idea what “go on anything” meant. The coach looked a bit blank and then responded that I was right, he had never taught us what “go on anything” meant. I guess I felt a bit better, but I also felt pretty darned stupid.

I don’t come to enjoy Major League Baseball as a jock player. I come just as a guy from southwest Ohio who loves the game. And since MLB is really a regional thing -- you know, Dodgers vs. Reds, Yankees vs. Dodgers; Red Sox vs. Yankees; oh, hell, anybody vs. the Yankees. It’s a here kind of thing. And here is represented by our very own Cincinnati Reds. And not just the Reds, but the Dayton Dragons, too. We’ve seen a handful of kids here at Fifth Third Field who became players and at one time or another drew a paycheck in Cincinnati. Adam Dunn. Austin Kearns. Jay Bruce. Ryan Hanigan. Drew Stubbs. Joey Votto. It’s been pretty darned cool.

Just to know that so many men came to Cincinnati to play professional baseball over the years. They came to play the game they loved. They came to play for us. They were our guys then and they’re our guys now. Johnny Bench. Pete Rose. Joe Morgan. Ken Griffey. Ken Griffey Jr. Rob Dibble. Randy Meyers. Norm Charlton. Don Gullett. Barry Larkin. Frank Robinson. Joe Nuxhall. Johnny Vander Meer. Bucky Walters. Ewell Blackwell. The 1919 World Series Champs. To heck with the Black Sox scandal. The 1975 & 1976 Championship teams. The wire-to-wire guys in 1990.

And what about this year’s team? Votto. Phillips. Rolen. Cabrera. Bruce. Gomes. Arroyo. Rhodes. These guys work hard and work hard together. I don’t think they’re the best team in the league. Maybe not even the best in the division. But they grind away. They never quit. They come to work every day waiting out pitchers in good at-bats. They run with the best going first to third on a single. They lead the majors in winning games in the last at bat. Pitching has been good, especially for the kids. Mike Leake. Johnny Cueto. Micah Owings. Sam LeCure. Things look promising.

The history of the baseball provides America with a case study of who we were in a complicated but simpler time, as Ken Burns has so beautifully attested. Like him, I’m just in love with the concept. I love baseball. And those Red’s guys an hour down the road are my guys. Always have been. Always will be. It’s just the way it is. Tonight they’re beating the Nationals by 5 in the ninth. If the Cardinals lose, the Cinci Boys of Summer go back into first place by a half game. It’s the stuff summer is made of.

Today’s elder idea: Pete Rose is baseball.

Sparky Anderson