It's softball weather...
The weather this weekend reminds me of all the softball games we went to as kids. Dad played on 2 phone company teams, and one or two bar teams. One SNET team was a "good" team - played to win, wanted to go to tournaments. The other team was a "whatever" team - played for who bought drinks after the games.
The bar teams were the fun folks. More about those later.
First practice was always on Good Friday. When I got married, my mother-in-law thought I was a heathen because I didn't know there were actually church services on Good Friday! I truly thought it was the official start of softball season. I still haven't set foot in a church on Good Friday, but will gladly go to a game that day!
Dad's games were on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he would race home, then we would run in the car, and drive to Fairfield from Lordship. McDonalds had opened at the Circle in Fairfield, so we would stop there for dinner. We had to all troop in, except Mom. She got to stay in the car. One of my sisters had to have her hamburger PLAIN. You know what that meant - we had to wait for the special order. Dad would not be happy at all about that, but always let her order it plain!! We would finally get our food, and gobble it down in the back seat of the car. Orange sodas, fries, hamburgers or cheeseburgers. There was no such thing as a Happy Meal back in the day. If Mom wasn't coming, we got to go to a hot dog stand on the Post Road - I can't remember the name of it. The PLAIN hamburger sister would get her hot dog with KETCHUP! Ugh...it was grosser than gross!
We would get to the field - there were a few in Fairfield - near schools. No bathrooms (and we just drank orange sodas!), so we had a "potty" in the car, as did anyone else who had daughters. Fairfield had ice cream trucks - us poor Stratford kids didn't know what those were when we first saw 'em, but quickly learned to beg quarters for our Good Humor bars.
If there were swamps near the field, we would head for the swamps. The moms would take out their lawn chairs, and sit in a row, usually behind the bench. We were never offered bug spray, or water, or snacks. We didn't bring our toys, or bikes either. When I got older, of course I brought a book. We were expected to entertain ourselves, not bother anyone, and not fight with anyone except our own siblings (that was ignored anyway). It was dark when the game was over, and on Thursdays, we headed to what became known as the Sea Grape - the dive bar by Fairfield Beach.
If a Bridgeport team was involved, we may have played at Went Field. The kids would have to go out and pick up any trash, bottles, cans before the guys took the field. Then we would all run to the concrete pad, and play with the local kids. After the game, we headed to a bar on East Main Street owned by a Puerto Rican guy who kept a machete behind the bar. Us kids always had to look at it before we would sit down.
Sunday games were entirely different. Dad bartended for Pops, a bar on the Seawall in Stratford. He pitched, played all field positions, and third base. He could hit the ball pretty hard, and could pitch fastpitch or slowpitch. As this was the "beer league", Dad and his friends had to get the keg and all accompaniments before the game - there were 9 a.m. starts, and 11 a.m. starts. When Dad played on 2 teams, he usually had a doubleheader. We would gulp down our Sunday donuts, run to the car, and get in. Games were played all over Stratford, mainly at Birdseye, Johnson, or Wooster. Johnson was our favorite, because of the candy store where the playground is now. There were always lots and lots of kids there, too, so we got to meet some of the kids we later would go to school with in junior high and high school.
Wooster was another favorite because of the pond and the brook. Because we grew up going in the swamps, we didn't care about getting dirty or wet. We always came home with creatures.
In the meantime, the moms had the same set up - chairs behind the bench. The difference on Sundays for the adults was the beer. A 9 a.m. beer, I thought, was normal for softball season. These guys, some of them, would play 2 straight games - 9 innings, fueled only by keg beer (Schaefer, of course!).
After the Sunday games, we usually headed to Pops, for bar pizza, pasta, and running around the dining room.
My parents were "cool", back in the day.
The bar teams were the fun folks. More about those later.
First practice was always on Good Friday. When I got married, my mother-in-law thought I was a heathen because I didn't know there were actually church services on Good Friday! I truly thought it was the official start of softball season. I still haven't set foot in a church on Good Friday, but will gladly go to a game that day!
Dad's games were on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he would race home, then we would run in the car, and drive to Fairfield from Lordship. McDonalds had opened at the Circle in Fairfield, so we would stop there for dinner. We had to all troop in, except Mom. She got to stay in the car. One of my sisters had to have her hamburger PLAIN. You know what that meant - we had to wait for the special order. Dad would not be happy at all about that, but always let her order it plain!! We would finally get our food, and gobble it down in the back seat of the car. Orange sodas, fries, hamburgers or cheeseburgers. There was no such thing as a Happy Meal back in the day. If Mom wasn't coming, we got to go to a hot dog stand on the Post Road - I can't remember the name of it. The PLAIN hamburger sister would get her hot dog with KETCHUP! Ugh...it was grosser than gross!
We would get to the field - there were a few in Fairfield - near schools. No bathrooms (and we just drank orange sodas!), so we had a "potty" in the car, as did anyone else who had daughters. Fairfield had ice cream trucks - us poor Stratford kids didn't know what those were when we first saw 'em, but quickly learned to beg quarters for our Good Humor bars.
If there were swamps near the field, we would head for the swamps. The moms would take out their lawn chairs, and sit in a row, usually behind the bench. We were never offered bug spray, or water, or snacks. We didn't bring our toys, or bikes either. When I got older, of course I brought a book. We were expected to entertain ourselves, not bother anyone, and not fight with anyone except our own siblings (that was ignored anyway). It was dark when the game was over, and on Thursdays, we headed to what became known as the Sea Grape - the dive bar by Fairfield Beach.
If a Bridgeport team was involved, we may have played at Went Field. The kids would have to go out and pick up any trash, bottles, cans before the guys took the field. Then we would all run to the concrete pad, and play with the local kids. After the game, we headed to a bar on East Main Street owned by a Puerto Rican guy who kept a machete behind the bar. Us kids always had to look at it before we would sit down.
Sunday games were entirely different. Dad bartended for Pops, a bar on the Seawall in Stratford. He pitched, played all field positions, and third base. He could hit the ball pretty hard, and could pitch fastpitch or slowpitch. As this was the "beer league", Dad and his friends had to get the keg and all accompaniments before the game - there were 9 a.m. starts, and 11 a.m. starts. When Dad played on 2 teams, he usually had a doubleheader. We would gulp down our Sunday donuts, run to the car, and get in. Games were played all over Stratford, mainly at Birdseye, Johnson, or Wooster. Johnson was our favorite, because of the candy store where the playground is now. There were always lots and lots of kids there, too, so we got to meet some of the kids we later would go to school with in junior high and high school.
Wooster was another favorite because of the pond and the brook. Because we grew up going in the swamps, we didn't care about getting dirty or wet. We always came home with creatures.
In the meantime, the moms had the same set up - chairs behind the bench. The difference on Sundays for the adults was the beer. A 9 a.m. beer, I thought, was normal for softball season. These guys, some of them, would play 2 straight games - 9 innings, fueled only by keg beer (Schaefer, of course!).
After the Sunday games, we usually headed to Pops, for bar pizza, pasta, and running around the dining room.
My parents were "cool", back in the day.
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