Missed history by that much
I could have been there! I could have watched Barry Bonds hit
the record-breaking homerun that soared past Hank Aaron’s momentous
blast in April of 1974 before coming to rest in the August of 2007
history books.
I’m not saying I could have gotten a press pass to see No. 756.
With the amount of media that requested credentials on that special
night, a paper as small as The Pinnacle would have been
hard-pressed to get approved for one.
Missed history by that much
I could have been there! I could have watched Barry Bonds hit the record-breaking homerun that soared past Hank Aaron’s momentous blast in April of 1974 before coming to rest in the August of 2007 history books.
I’m not saying I could have gotten a press pass to see No. 756. With the amount of media that requested credentials on that special night, a paper as small as The Pinnacle would have been hard-pressed to get approved for one.
No I could have been right there – in the bleachers! Those were the only seats that my mother was able to get.
Now I remember the phone call like it was yesterday, only it was about two months ago. My mother, Sylvia, had called to say that my brother Sylvio would be in town that week as he was to be vacationing from Florida.
My mother, who is fluent in Italian and had Molinari for her maiden name, decided that it would be best to buy tickets for that date because it was going to be Italian recognition night, or something to that affect.
One of those tickets was for my brother; the other was for my little nephew Sylvio Jr. and stepfather. She was also going to by tickets for me, my wife (also 100 percent Italian), my daughter and newborn son – Giovanni.
After briefly thinking about it, we all decided against it because Giovanni – would only be eight weeks at the time of the game. So I proceeded to tell my mom, thanks but no thanks… I figured Bonds would have broken the record by then anyway.
As the game got closer and closer something told me inside that that night was going to be the night of the historic blast. Somehow, I just knew it.
The day before the game I asked my mother where the seats were. She said, “They are in the leftfield bleachers. I could have gotten them in the centerfield bleachers (where the monumental blast wound up) but those seats were a little less money so I thought the right field seats would be better.”
Without a ticket, I did the next best thing – watched the game on TV like everybody else. I did so with my infant son, who was sitting in a bouncer seat by my side and oblivious to what was going on. Yes, I’ve always said that it is far better to watch any professional sports event from the comforts of your living room, but this was a chance to see history, live, from a stone’s throw away.
And sure enough Bonds launched his storied shot in the fifth inning on a 3-2 count off Washington Nationals pitcher Mike Bacsik (no doubt a trivia question one day) and the fireworks erupted and pandemonium engulfed the stadium. Willie Mays was there and Bonds delivered a touching speech and shout to his father, Bobby, who has past away just a few seasons ago.
Within 20 minutes the phone rang. It was my brother calling me from the stadium. Everyone was still cheering and screaming; you could hardly hear a thing. My 9-year-old nephew grabbed the phone and was so excited about what he had seen that he morphed into a Barry Bonds and Giants fan about as quickly as it took for that homerun to leave the AT&T Park.
I thought to myself I was exactly my nephew’s age when Aaron hit the shot that surpassed Babe Ruth’s record. Maybe if I had been at that game I would have dropped my beloved Red Sox and become a Braves fan.
And who knows, if I had gone and my mother had opted to purchase that block of seats in centerfield, I might be in the market for a home out at Ridgemark right now.
Yes, it would have been fun to have been in San Francisco that night. But at least my family was there to see it, and that’s more than most people can say.
P.S. Mom, can I have your ticket stub?
