Skip to main content

A Ballpark Visit

Podcast - A Ballpark Visit . . .

“Are the Tigers playing at home?”

As an avid baseball fan, a question I’ve asked many times during my Alumni travels preparing to visit Detroit, MI.

However, this time I found that question printed in a tattered, yellowing,  newspaper clipping from the Detroit Free Press dated Saturday, September 25, 1948, carefully tucked away in a scrapbook.

The ball-club was and two young boys realized a dream, I can only imagine what that was like . . .

Let me get you up to speed. While going through a box of old files from Lori’s father I came across an article titled Youth’s First City Visit.

A piece co-authored by 15-year-old Gerald (Jerry) Davies from the farming community of Marlette, Michigan about his experiences visiting Detroit.

The photo journal and article was a promotion sponsored by The Detroit Free Press as a student exchange.

Gerald Davies from Marlette MI would meet his namesake Jerry Davies from Detroit, together they would visit and work on the Davies family farm, take a trip to the city, and attend a big-league ball game.

Their weekend highlight was The Corner, the nickname for the intersection of Michigan and Trumbull Avenue, Briggs Stadium, (later re-named Tiger Stadium 1961).

During their Ballpark visit, the two young boys were the VIP guests that day, they met Tigers manager Steve O’Neil and chatted with star players from the 1948 Tigers.

The photo caption read, "Gerald was particularly impressed with outfielder Hoot Evers," (Walter Arthur Evers) who batted .314 in 1948.

Reading through that tattered article 70 years later, I can only speculate what game they saw.

Scanning the Baseball Almanac, I'd like to think it was the 1948 pennant-winning Cleveland Indians. A ball-club powered with such greats as Bob Feller, Lou Boudreau, and Larry Doby. The Indians whipped the Tigers 9-3. I'm going to dig deeper in that box, maybe I'll find the ticket stub? That would be pretty cool.

Be it nostalgia, the love of the game, or simply the longing to recreate the past, to this day, I’m able to follow the Detroit Tigers, via my iPhone and MLB’s At Bat app.

Obviously not yet, the 2021 Baseball season won’t start until April 1st.

It's as if there’s a connection somehow.

Hmm, maybe there is . . .

This is Patrick Ball, thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I knew a Marlette...

Most Popular of All Time

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

Patience – the Only First-Class Ticket

In this episode, Why Patience is the Only First-Class Ticket They say travel broadens the mind. After eight days sailing the Rhône with 140 fellow luxury vacationers, I can confirm it also tests patience, calf strength, buffet strategy, and one's tolerance for people furious that France insists on being French. Don't get me wrong—I adored this trip. The river shimmered like liquid optimism. The villages looked hand-painted. The pastries could negotiate world peace. But somewhere between Ship Horn Hello and Bon Voyage, we'd inadvertently boarded a floating behavioral research study disguised as a holiday. Our ship was less a cruise and more a ferry for the Sailors of Status. ⌚ The Wristwatch Wars Some passengers approached relaxation like yogis. Others treated leisure like a final exam with extra credit. I came to believe certain luxury watches emit ultrasonic signals that only their owners can detect. A frequency calibrated to trigger rapid movement toward any line forming...

Up the Rhône

Up the Rhône by Patrick Ball We booked a fine cruise up the Rhône — what a treat! With iPhones, lanyards, and schedules so neat. They promised us peace and a mind that would mend, But each calm beginning had chores at the end! "Now breakfast at seven! At eight, take the view!" At nine, there's a lecture on ' What Tourists Do!' At noon, there's a tasting (you must love the cheese), Then hurry to nap time — as corporate decrees! I followed that plan till my patience ran dry. The Rhône softly chuckled, "Oh my, oh my, my! You've missed half my sparkles, my ripples, my tone— You're busy pretending you've peacefully grown!" So I fired my planner and banished my clock. I tossed my agenda right off the dock! I let the wind tickle my schedule away, and drifted through hours that danced where they may. I chatted with swans, had no notion of when, I'd nibble, or nap, or go roaming again. No Wi-Fi! No meetings! No planning! No fuss! Just me and ...

Journey to Avignon (Part II)

🇫🇷 Lost in Transition: Our Journey to Avignon (Part II) When plans derail, sometimes the story gets better. "Mais attendez… peut-être…" the agent murmured, fingers flying across her keyboard. Lori and I leaned in, holding our breath. She frowned, typed again, then sighed. "With this disruption, all trains have been rerouted—and they're already full." We exchanged glances. Around us, the Gare de Lyon pulsed with energy: travelers clutching tickets, voices echoing, the scent of exasperation drifting through the chaos. It felt like the entire station had been swept into the same storm of confusion. Just then, another, older agent appeared beside us. He spoke in clipped, military French. "Where are you coming from? Did you miss your connection because of the incident—the acte de vandalisme ?" We both began to explain, recounting the wrong station, the Metro dash, the missed train—but before we could start, our first agent leaned close, her eyes wide wit...