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...

January 15, 2021 at 11:35 AM

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️ In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...

Our Journey to Avignon

🇫🇷 Lost in Transition: Our Journey to Avignon (Part 1) When everything that can go wrong—does—sometimes grace still finds you. Our Monday morning trip began on the quiet island of Noirmoutier , where salt marshes and sea breezes whisper of simpler days. From there, our early morning drive was uneventful; we arrived at the Nantes station with plenty of time to spare. From Nantes to Paris Montparnasse, everything went smoothly—so we thought, until it didn't. That's when things started to unravel. If you've never traveled the Paris Metro , imagine a vast underground maze pulsing beneath the city—corridors twisting into one another, trains roaring in and out of the dark, staircases that rise and fall like riddles. It's efficient, yes—but only if you know where you're going. We had over an hour and a half to make our next train to Avignon —plenty of time. Or so we believed. We needed to reach the Gare de Lyon station, where our TGV (high-speed train) was headed south...

On The Fly

Search This Blog