The 1968 Police Pals. (Submitted photo)

Summertime. School is out. The sun is shining. What a great day for baseball. Let’s play two.

I was eight-years-old when I made an “unofficial” appearance in a Lewistown National Little League baseball game. My Dad was manager of the Police Pals and since I was a year shy of regulation age, he appointed me batboy. In my confusion, I thought it would lead to bigger things, like maybe becoming “Batman.” Sorry, son, different kind of bats.

We were playing the league champions, Sacred Heart. They had a huge lead, double-digits to nothing. There was no mercy rule in those days so the game moved on, despite the outcome no longer in doubt. My Dad okayed it with the opposing manager and the home plate umpire to put me in the game. My first-ever at-bat.

The Sacred Heart pitcher was a neighbor and friend. He tried to guide a pitch into my zone so I could take a swing but the ball bounced and hit me on the leg. I was awarded first base.

Once on the bag, I was not going to let my chance slip away. In Little League, a runner cannot leave the base before the pitch reaches the batter. Not familiar with the rule book, I took off for second. Little League uniforms in the late 1960s were different from the comfortable and stylish uniforms worn today. We wore baggy wool jerseys and pants, and mine being a few sizes too big did not help produce maximum speed. I went into my Charlie Brown slide, winding up on my back halfway between first and second with my Babe Ruth-style baggy pants filled with dirt. I was ordered back to first base where I stayed put until the final out of the ballgame and the end of my comic-relief stint of the season.

Baseball would be a large part of my summers when I was younger, from Little League (as a regulation-age player) to Junior and Senior Babe Ruth to Twilight League play. Ernie Banks had it right. Nothing better than playing ball on a summer day (or night).

There were two unwritten rules if you played baseball. Do not go swimming the day of a game and do not play wiffle ball. Swimming, we were told, would tire you and wiffle ball would ruin your timing. During the Little League years, I stayed away from the pool for the most part, but I could not resist wiffle ball in the backyard. Afterall, we had our own neighborhood league. But it did slow my bat for baseball.

When I wasn’t playing baseball, I was thinking baseball. Major League Baseball. Televised games were not as common in the 1960s. Radio was the focus. I can remember listening to Phillies baseball with my Dad throughout the years. The voices of By Saam, Bill Campbell, Richie Ashburn, Harry Kalas and Andy Musser were part of the summer soundtrack that brought the games into our home. Their voices still resonate today.

For a youngster, having a chance to see a Major League game in person was a true thrill. Connie Mack Stadium in Philadelphia was the venue for my first three Phillies games. The old stadium, formerly Shibe Park, was, like most of the era, no frills. The Phillies, following the collapse of 1964, were a middle-of-the-pack team in the National League. By 1967, the roster included Richie (Dick) Allen, Johnny Callison, Tony Taylor, Chris Short and Jim Bunning to name a few. By the early 1970s, the club moved to Veterans Stadium, and fans were introduced to Mike Schmidt, Steve Carlton, Greg Luzinski, Willie Montanez and Larry Bowa. Trips to Philadelphia became more common with my Dad and others. There were many great memories at the Vet, including a chance face-to-face meeting with broadcaster and former Phillies centerfielder Richie Ashburn.

Eventually, the team moved to its current home, Citizens Bank Park, and new memories were created with my family’s younger generation.

The carefree summer months were a departure from the everyday school regimen. Staying up late to watch the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, cookouts, summer drives in the country, days at 5th Ward playground, a day at the pool (not on game day) in Burnham, and later, Rec Park in Lewistown. Before Hurricane Agnes in 1972, Kish Park was a true amusement park with a roller coaster, ferris wheel, handcars, bumper cars, fun-in-the-dark, cups and saucers, an arcade, a train and even a small zoo. Later, Hersheypark became a yearly tradition with my family. It was an all-day event. Breakfast at Bob Evans. The tram ride to the park. Chocolate World. Roller coasters, all of them. I could ride the Great Bear all day long, and one last time on the Comet before the gates closed.

The best part of summer is reliving and remembering the moments. The heat and humidity is forgotten, but the smiles, laughter and people remain: sitting along the banks of local streams while trout fishing with my Dad, laughing with coworkers at summer jobs and sharing moments during family reunions all seem like yesterday, even after decades.

The carefree days would eventually fade into autumn’s twilight and winter’s chill. But, there was always anticipation for another summer, another season and another ballgame.