THERE WERE EARLIER ONES

But the first baseball card and player that I ever remember was Cardinal outfielder Wally Moon in this Topps '57. The second card I remember was Bobby Gene Green, also a Cardinal outfielder. The third, predictably another Cardinal, second baseman Don Blasingame.

The first baseball game I ever attended was at Sportsman's Park in St. Louis, a doubleheader with the Cubs. My first night game also there. It was at that moment that I appreciated the lyric, "I don't care if we ever get back." It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen with my nine year old eyes. It looked brighter than daytime and the green grass emerald and manicured. It was Augusta National to me. A slice of Heaven on earth.

My first autograph I got there. Curt Flood. I kept that autograph through high school. Years later after I had met his son, I sat with him for a few innings and watched the Cardinals play. Sincerity is the single word I would use to describe Mr. Flood.

My first foul ball--Busch Stadium. Jack Clark. My second was also at Busch. Hit by Willie McGee, the ball careened off a back interior wall into my hand as I snagged it, never spilling a drop of my lemonade.

My first appearance on a major league field--Busch Stadium. Photo Day when our son was ten or so. We took a few snapshots as we called them then and went to the outfield to play catch. I duplicated that with our daughter and a friend a few years later.

My first announcing job at a major league stadium--Busch Stadium. When the MTV high school baseball team played Granite City. I was pumped to hear my voice over that fabulous speaker system. That was duplicated another season and was just as much fun.

My first World Series game--Busch Stadium I. The Cardinals won on a Darrell Porter opposite field double. Tickets courtesy of Stan "The Man" Musial who was in a business deal with my wife and her boss.

First game of the new Busch Stadium--SRO, our son and I were there courtesy of our daughter who backdoored in and got us tickets via the internet.

When your passion for the game turns to love (some might say obsession) is what happened to me. I'm still affected by every Cardinal outcome. One of my favorite songs is "Thank God I'm a Cardinal Fan." And it all started with that Wally Moon baseball card so many years ago.

AT 104

One of the great American heroes that I never met, and by the way there are lots and lots of them, died this week at age 104. He lived in the valley and his name was Ed. Diablo, I believe was his last name.

At age 89 he recorded his first hole in one. He loved the game and played often. Actually pretty regularly until last year when his health deteriorated.

He had to be moved to a hospice care facility. He looked forward to returning to his course where he shot the ace 15 years ago. He had to have help, but he stood on the first tee just three days ago and hit 7 tee shots. Six hit the fairway while one trickled out into the rough.

He celebrated, he enjoyed the outing, he even got a phone call from golf pro Don Polley, now one of my favorite golfers. His caretakers knew how much the whole golf experience meant to Ed.

Three days later he passed away. I guess he didn't feel the need to hit any fairway shots, chips, or putts. The quitter.

Just kidding. And even though I never met Ed, I think he might have enjoyed that little jab, my calling him a quitter.

ED--you were a gamer. The game of golf will miss a guy like you. I only regret you and I never got to tee it up for a round or two.

IF YOUR NAME IS WAGNER, SKIP THIS

Our pastor played Division I soccer. He and his wife still coach soccer. I don't want to hurt their feelings. So, Rob and Kathryn, please skip this entry.

Ok, now I know they'll read it. But I don't like to be negative about others' passions. Well, unless they deserve it. And in this case they don't.

This week we passed a great sports complex in the valley. A huge area, well attended to, in short a beautiful setting. I don't know much about acreage, that is I'm not a good judge, but I'd guess 10 acres total, and it's possible I missed it by 7, of lush fields.

Lots of kids playing ball, lots of parents watching and cheering. The problem: it was soccer. All soccer fields. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the day, the moments, the action.

But I kept wishing for baseball fields. The crack of the bats. I know; I'm old school. Bats don't crack until you get to the Majors. Instead they ping or plunk these days. But I'd even take those sounds, unnatural as they are instead of the sounds of soccer.

Kids in the sun, running the bases, throwing the balls, standing in the outfield waiting for a ball to be hit, sometimes hoping it wouldn't be hit to you. The catcher, digging the ball out of the dirt, throwing a dart, a perfect peg to second to get the player trying to steal a base.

The umpire, calling the game in his way. "Steek," instead of strike. Body movements, exaggerated on close plays. Kids on the bench trying to hide from managers or trying to get their attention. Trying to get in or out of the game depending on their confidence and who might be there to watch them play.

Instead, kids not able to use their hands, playing with a ball. Running and running and kicking and hardly ever scoring. All that work, all that expendable energy for naught.

I had to shake my head to clear it. It was like I was in Europe. Where was baseball? America's pastime. Or unfortunately America's Passed Time.

THE WIZARD

A good friend of mine from high school used to own a baseball card shop.

From him I received two life size cardboard standees or stand ups of baseball players Frank Thomas and Ozzie Smith. When we moved to AZ, our son inherited them.

Recently our youngest grandson turned 6. He had a spy birthday party where even the invitations followed the theme. They have a huge woods, thick with large trees, undergrowth, a creek, downed trees and branches. A thicket.

The two standees were placed deep in the woods where the boys played spies and hunted for them in one birthday party activity.

After the party, our son forgot to retrieve the baseball players who remained in the woods for a few days.

One day, a friend from their church was watching the kids while both parents worked. As they were playing outside, he thought to himself, "There's a Black guy in the woods staring at me."

Not to alarm the kids, he re-directed them to another part of the yard for play while he went to investigate. "Yup, he's still there. Just staring at me," he thought to himself.

Upon closer inspection, he said, again to himself, "It's Ozzie Smith looking at me!"

I know he got a good laugh out of it, and knowing Chuck, I'm sure he's re-told the story as only he could. And I hope he took The Wizard of Oz and Frank back to the basement where they belong.

APOLLO BARS ARE THE BEST

What? You've never tried one? You've never even seen one in those candy bar and chips machines like the one pictured? Then you're lost.

Or then you're not a fan of the tv show Lost. But why aren't there more. Heroes cereal for one. I know there's an American Idol ice cream. But why stop there?

Seinfeld soup. MASH band aids and surgical tape. I know there are or were Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle band aids.

What about the geriatric set. Golden Girls denture bond. ER arthritic rub. There are already plenty of old guys hawking supplemental insurance.

And grocery bags instead of plastic. What an avenue for Dave Matthews, Jimmy Buffet and Pink.

Bring back the metal lunch boxes with MLB teams or players. With actors or movies. And, by the way, if you haven't seen Slumdog Millionaire, well, you need to. It is a good movie, even if I missed the Million Dollar question.

These economic times, why haven't I heard Obamanomics or BO-nomics?, dictate some creativity in promotions and getting the dollar back in circulation. These suggestions are just a start in the right direction. Be creative and come up with better ones. Believe me, our country needs them.

THE EYES HAVE IT

Our most popular beach towels have palm trees on them. Our second favorite have some big green fern or some kind of elephant ear leaf on them. Mostly they stay outside covering our chaise lounges.

When we go to the beach, we take different generic ones to lie on the sand. Most of our towels come from Sam's Club or Cotsco. El Cheapos we used to call them.

But I could be in the market for a splurge if I found some like the one pictured on the right. Now that's a cool one. Although I would have to have two and place them next to each other for the effect.

About the only other quality I look for in a beach towel is size. I don't like the little bitty giveaways at major league ballparks. I have larger bath towels than some of those. The two exceptions are a Spuds McKenzie towel (remember him) our daughter still has and a Fredbird our son still has. I don't care how small those are, they are acceptable.

I think there's a market out there for designer or luxury beach towels. Untapped. Chance of a lifetime for a budding entrepreneur. But what do I know? Buyer of baseball cards, beanie babies and cabbage patch dolls.

SHE KILLED THOSE 'PIRES

When Sarah Michelle Geller starred in that show, I never saw one episode. I knew who she was and she may have been a good actress, but the subject matter didn't or doesn't interest me in the least.

Yet it seems America is enamored with vampires and vampire books and movies. Twilight is written by an AZ woman and I saw that three, in fact, the top three sellers on the fiction book list were from the twilight series. The top 3!

Incredible. I'm assuming the audience is adult, young adult perhaps. But where is the appeal? I subjected myself to the last 10 minutes of a vampire movie the other day. It went like this. Attractive woman was drawn to a vampire. Her boyfriend followed her to her meeting with the vampire.

She became a vampire. He was still attracted to her. I think he still wanted her even though he knew the consequences.

Stupid. It even showed the first vampire licking some blood off a wall before he vampired the girl. I don't know. I just shook my head and figured I'd never watch even 10 minutes of another vampire movie. I could feel IQ points leaving my brain.

The girl in the movie may have been that attractive to the guy that he was willing to grow fangs for her, but I couldn't identify. Evidently a lot of others could.