I was six when I attended my first baseball game. White Sox vs Tigers. Final score 8-2. Every time the Sox were on during the summer, I would forego going outside to play with my friends, preferring to sit by my dad's side to watch the our beloved Sox. It was our thing - my time with dad.
One Sunday, we went for a ride on the El. Dad set it up as our "big adventure" and kept me engaged. I never noticed the number of people boarding the train. As we arrived at the station on 35th, I looked around and saw a lot of people getting off at the same stop. As I looked across the expressway, I saw Comiskey Park and screamed in joy. It was much larger than it appeared on TV. The closer we got, the more immense it seemed. And it was beautiful!
I was at a baseball game. A real, live, baseball game. Not on tv but in person. And we had popcorn, hot dogs and I had my very first pop - a Coca Cola - and it was really good. It was really hot that day and Coke went way beyond refreshing. I remember three home runs - we had two and Detroit had one. It seemed like the Chicago runs wouldn't stop. Could not have been a better game to see in person.
Old Comiskey was a wonderful ballpark. Full of charm and history that I would not truly appreciate until years later when it was announced the Sox were building a new stadium. But my memories will be with me forever. The heat, the home runs, that Coke. An amazing day with my dad and that first time seeing the White Sox up close.