Opening Day And The One That Got Away
By: Jimmy Derochea
With the 2013 Opening Day just around the corner, I figured I’d share one of my fondest, yet emotional opening day memories with you. Opening Day means renewal, renewal of hope and high expectations! Opening Day brings back memories of childhood, of our parents taking us to games and of innocence that we long for! Opening Day begins a period where baseball fans are in our glory nearly every day for the next 6 months, perhaps longer if we are lucky, because our team is playing nearly every single day. And sometimes, magic happens on Opening Day and memories are forged that will last a lifetime. This is the story of one such opening day for me!
The day was April 10th, 1998. The sun exploded off of the windshield of a parked car as we strode out of the Kenmore Station tunnel. I squinted for a moment letting my eyes adjust, and then continued walking. The jumbled haggling from the sea of vendors suddenly screamed in our ears. They were hawking hats, shirts, peanuts, popcorn; you name it. There was even a little man with a heavy Latin American accent selling yo-yos that lit up. I was heading to the 1998 home opener at Fenway Park with my boss, John, who had hired me just a few months prior. The Red Sox were set to face the Seattle Mariners, led by Ken Griffey Jr. We ignored the shouting vendors, walking past them as we continued chatting away about baseball. We were both eager to finally see the 1998 season begin.
We walked on, through Kenmore Square and rounded the corner towards Fenway Park. We strode with passion. We past the entrance near the famed left field wall. I glanced down the street and looked enviously up towards the net that extended high above the Green Monster. Back then the Green Monster was still adorned with a 23 foot net that loomed above the Green Monster. I counted 9 balls resting in the net. Nine balls that had already been slugged out during batting practice. My childhood passion was chasing the batting practice home run balls that went over that famous green wall and over that net and onto Lansdowne Street, below. I had chased down, captured or caught about one hundred batting practice balls in my lifetime to that point. My dream had always been to catch a real game ball, especially a homerun ball. That’s why, at 35 years old, I had a glove with me that game.
The game was just about to get underway as we found our seats in the right field corner. This particular section held sentiment for me. It brought back memories of my youth. It also brought back feelings of sadness, innocence. That very section was where I had sat on a chilly October afternoon in 1978 as a diehard, 15 year old Red Sox nut. My 10-year old brother, Jeff, and I watched history that day, October 2nd, 1978. That day we watched the 163rd regular season game of the 1978 season from this section as Bucky Dent thrust himself into Fenway Park infamy! It was an extra game to decide the American League East Champion; The Red Sox or Yankees. That day we witnessed another chapter unfold in the beleaguered history of the Red Sox and the “Curse of the Bambino”.
Did you know Bucky Dent only hit 40 Homers. This represents 2.5% of his total. Pure Joy.
John and I took out our pens nearly simultaneously. It was uncanny. We both opened our game programs and hurriedly scribbled in the lineups for the game. The Boston Red Sox versus the Seattle Mariners. Opening Day! Sunshine, baseball, cool spring breezes and Politicians galore scattered all over the ballpark. On a day like this, I surmised that childhood memories were flooding through the minds of all of the hardcore baseball fans in attendance. For sure, Opening Day harkened the deepest of memories and emotions for Red Sox fans, for all baseball fans.
Fast forward to the late innings. The game and the afternoon waned on. Randy Johnson, all 6’ 10” of him was mowing down the hometown team. Fifteen strikeouts through 8 innings! The Red Sox trailed by 3 runs heading into the 9th, but still, we had hope, slim, but still, hope. I pointed to the bullpen to let John know that Seattle had their closer, Mike Timlin, warming up. Johnson or Timlin in the 9th, it didn’t look good for the Sox.
Then, almost before we could refocus on the game, the Mainers scored two more times to extend the lead to 7-2 as a youngster named Alex Rodriguez burned them with a booming triple. Almost on cue, the majority of the crowd seemingly rose and headed for the exits simultaneously, hoping to beat the traffic. But neither John nor I budged. We were hardcore, ‘birds of a feather’ so to speak. We both looked at each other and chuckled as we confessed that we were staying until the end because, in baseball, you just don’t know what you might miss! Seattle’s closer stopped warming up.
“Maybe ‘Big Unit’ will stay in and strike out the side. Eighteen K’s would be nice,” I reasoned. “Or maybe they’ll bring in ‘Heater’ and we’ll have a chance to mount a come back,” I quipped. We both laughed. ‘Heater’ was the nickname of the former Red Sox closer, who had a rough time closing out games the season before.
Sure enough, ‘Heater’ gets up and starts warming up and as the Mariners are finally retired in the ninth, he makes his way to the mound. Well, 2 relievers later, 6 straight batters had reached base as the Sox now trailed 7-5 with bases loaded and Mo Vaughn due up. John’s voice rose as he excitedly blurted out, “Hey, a hit hear could tie it…”
Without missing a beat, I quickly turned to him and replied, “No way, he’s going to end it right here!” as I pointed to my glove as I slipped it on, boldly predicting that I was going to catch his game winning, walk off Grand Slam.
Well, Mo falls into an 0-2 hole so my prediction is not looking good when suddenly, BAM, there’s a majestic rocket coming out toward right field. I rise out of my seat and shuffle across the aisle and step down a row or two, sliding into the aisle to my left and into perfect position in the path of the ball. I have never felt like a ball has been more destined to be mine! There’s no one directly in front of me for 3 rows. Only 2 very drunk guys one row in front and just off to my left.
Now the ball was 30 feet away, then 20…there’s no way I’m going to miss it, I raise my glove, reaching over the row in front of me, to welcome the historic HR into my mitt. Suddenly, one of the drunken clowns sticks out his right hand and intercepts the ball a mere foot in front of my waiting glove. The ball ricochets forward about 6 or 7 rows. UGH! It was just one mere foot from my glove, HONEST TO GOD!!! The poor guy’s palm quickly became so swollen, that it looked like a cartoon character’s inflated hand. He was so drunk, he never felt a thing, but he had denied me a chance at Red Sox immortality (in my mind anyway!)
I was ecstatic that the Red Sox had pulled off a miraculous, Opening Day comeback, but I was devastated that fate stepped in on my glory. I had CALLED that I’d catch it and came so close, just one foot away from making an unbelievable sports headline story…”FAN CALLS HISTORIC HOMERUN CATCH “ SO close!
Opening Days have always been special to baseball fans. We approach Opening Day filled with hope and promise for the new season. They also conjure up those memories from our past, from our youth. One thing is for sure, I will always remember that miracle Opening Day victory in 1998, even though, to me, it’s all about the ONE THAT GOT AWAY!
NOTE: Still brooding over the one that got away, it was all brought into perspective for me a couple of weeks later. I took my, then, 7 year old son, to a game and in the 3rd inning I caught a foul ball off of the bat of the Red Sox’ Darren Lewis. I was an instant hero to my son and I’ll never forget that excitement and pride in his eyes when I turned to him and handed him the baseball. He bragged about it for a long time afterwards. I guess if I was destined to catch one or the other, I’d much rather have caught that foul ball and been the hero to my son! But I’d still have liked to taste the joy of catching that Mo Vaughn, walk off Opening Day Grand Slam!
EDITORS NOTE: Kids can be overrated Jimmy
You might just See Jimmy’s hand.
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