In my pre-teen years, in my pre-driving years, I listened to Reds baseball devotedly, especially late night games from Los Angeles and San Francisco. I would tuck my cigarette-sized transistor radio beneath my pillow and listen to Waite Hoyt describing the exploits of Frank Robinson, Vada Pinson, Bob Purkey, and Jim O’Toole.

There were only sixteen teams then, eight in each league, no divisions, and no play-offs. If you came in first in your league, you went straight to the World Series. Otherwise, you went straight to your winter part-time job until it was time for the pitchers and catchers to report for spring training. Second place got you nuthin’.

Thus, these early 60’s late night games from the coast meant far less to the baseball world in general than to a burr-headed North Lexington nerd from Bryan Station Junior High. After all, the Reds and the Dodgers could never play each other in the post-season, they were in the same league.

But listen I did…and pretty much stayed awake until the end of the games…and spent my allowance on new batteries the next day.

But now…

…starting at 9:00pm this Tuesday…

…late night baseball from Los Angeles…

…that means something.

Win, and you move straight on, perhaps eventually to the World Series.

Lose, and you go straight to your mansion on a golf course and spend the winter hitting a smaller ball that doesn’t avoid you…usually.

The stakes are serious, and I’ll be listening every night…as long as I can stay awake…hoping the ghosts of Vada, Frank, Waite, Bob, and Jim will pull us through now that it really counts.

Janie just shakes her head and wonders when she married a 12-year-old.