Wednesday afternoon in Flushing

Game 26: Marlins 3, Mets 6
16-10 for the season

I'm feeling shy about writing this post. my father gave me an incredible gift at the game-- faded copies of the letters he wrote to my uncle J during the '85 season. as every schoolchild knows, my father is a celebrated author in certain (very specific) circles, and one imagines that's at least in part because he writes so beautifully about baseball. I hold no illusions that what I'm doing here is publishing in any real way (hell, I barely even edit these posts), but these letters my dad wrote-- so richly described, so beautiful-- were written on a typewriter. sure, he used an automatic corrector (is that what they were called?) but that he used a typewriter means really no editing-- and the product is never the less amazing. I harbor many of my father's traits, but sadly an impressive innate writing ability is not one of them.

so I can say with confidence that when I talk about a game, I don't do it with the level of expressive beauty that my dad does. never the less, I have the urge to do it, and I know that's in some part genetic. I know that because it's now clear to me, having read the letters, that the very way I think about baseball is a mirror of my father's way of thinking about the game, and that all of my preferences are his. it's also now clear to me that my father's and my preferences are the same as those of my cousins and uncles, because they learned baseball together from their aunt and grandfather. we even have our own way of scoring the game, a system I've never seen anyone but a member of my family use. one of the things that I've so far enjoyed this season is talking about it with my cousin M, and realizing how similarly we think about the team and the game.

after I'd read a few of my dad's letters and expressed my gratitude to him for giving them to me, I called my cousin M to tell him about what I'd been reading. "What an amazing thing for us to have," he said. and he's right-- what an amazing thing to have, an insight into a great baseball mind that happens to be my fathers (and M's uncle's), and a time machine back to being 8 years old. I'm about to start reading them through a second time, and scanning them so we'll have digital versions forever.

as for the game, it was great, even if we didn't pay that much attention to it (well, as little attention as two people who are scoring every play can pay). I could pull out my scorecard and tell you all about it, but the truth is that the pleasure of it was being there, talking about the players and the plays and baseball in general with my dad. he asked me some good questions that will prompt other posts, but if you need details of the game, check out the scorecard. my only real disappointment is that I forgot to bring my camera.