Baseball in our Blood!!!

The Jensen "Boys of Summer" loved baseball. We collected baseball cards, played on various teams throughout our formative years and spent endless hours listening to the Chicago White Sox or Milwaukee Braves games on the radio. Editors note: TV did not carry baseball in those days. We had one channel, anyhow, and lucky to see anything through the snow. So wrapped up in baseball that one, only one of the brothers, created home and away uniforms from a set of blue pin stripe and red pin stripe pajamas with appropriate crayon color for numerals and team name across the chest. White socks with some type of striping added to the overall mystique as the PJ legs were tucked into the socks to give the target sock look. Downright authentic... and multi-functional.

The "heaven on earth" moments came when dad said we could pick out a game and he would take us all to a game. Mental gymnastics were at peak performance as we poured over the schedules and dates. Home game, afternoon game, any special events were all part of the planning process. It was either a Chicago White Sox road trip to the old and mystical Comiskey Park or the Braves at Milwaukee County Stadium near Lake Michigan in Milwaukee. The week ahead was total excitement as we projected lineups, batting order and analyzed stats of the players on the visiting team. On the night before, no one could sleep, because we had to get up early and hit the road! It was always a couple of hours or more just to get to the stadium. Then we had to arrive super early to pounce on unsuspecting players walking to the locker room to get autographs. Better be sure to call out the right name or everyone would look at you as subhuman.

Time for the gates to open, we would position at the right gate and take in the souvenir shops, food stalls and the dimly lit areas in the guts of the stadium. Then as we passed into the tunnel, bright sunshine and the greenest green I have ever seen meets you head on. Players in bright white and others in gray were spectacular contrasts in color and motion. The sounds of the dull roar of the fans and the crack of batting practice hits are embedded forever in my memory.

The games were exciting and we were rivetted to each play and inning. Mid way through the game, dad would give us money and we would hustle to the souvenir stand and buy team pictures, bat shaped pens and team pennants. These were treasured items and many of us still hold these in safekeeping today. Hey, we may have lost the house or car keys or family members on occasion over the years, but not our team pictures!!!

No one remembers much of the ride home. Exhausted and emotionally drained, we fell asleep with thoughts of the magic we had just witnessed. Tales to be told for weeks to jealous friends and bored neighbors.