Bat Day

In honor of the World Series, I feel compelled to share a conversation I recently had with my dad.

Dad: Let me tell you something. Bat Day, nowadays, is a shame. When I was a kid and went to Candlestick Park (AKA The Stick) they gave you an actual bat. I mean life size. I mean you could use it. I can still remember going to “The Stick” on Bat Day when Gaylord Perry was pitching. It was the top of the 9th and he was pitching a no hitter. People took their bats and started pounding them against the ground. It was amazing, the sound of the wood against concrete and the cheering.

Me: Wow. That sounds amazing! So did he end up pitching a no hitter?

Dad: No. Guy got up. Hit a base hit.

Me: Oh. Okay. So you didn’t see a no-hitter, then?

Dad: No, Dayna, but I got a bat.

Me: Okay. So, where is this bat? Did you save it?

Dad: Oh, God no. You know your grandpa. I’m sure he said something like, “This is a perfectly good bat. Use the damn bat, Nicky.”

Me: So, what you’re saying to me is that you didn’t see a no-hitter and you don’t have memorabilia from your childhood?

Dad: You have ruined my story, Dayna