Standing in line at the walkway to get tickets to get to the pavillion. I remember vividly the sound of the huge air conditioning water cooled engines just to the left of the walkway. I remember the people, all different, all Astros fans with a smattering of fans from other places and other teams. I remember handing the ticket to the usher and walking right in to the distinctive smell of the Astrodome, the sound of batting practice going on in the distance, the sight of throngs of people walking in a hurry to find their seats. Lines forming at the concession stands.
Then a huge hand of my Dad reaching out to me to guide me to my seat. I remember the collapsable seats, the joy of making them go up and down at my whim. The sight of dark green carpet and men running around shagging fly balls. I remember the Star Spangled Banner, sung proudly by all, including this little kid with his cap over his heart. I remember the sound of the crack of the bat, a unique reverb sound out in the pavillion that cannot be explained easily. I remember the smell of hotdogs and coca cola in the third inning as my Dad would come back to my brother and I with the goods in a dark tan carboard contraption. I remember the scoreboard, the cartoons, the astronaut groundskeepers, the call for Fred Gladding to come in and close out the game... in the seventh inning.
The walk back to the car after a satisfying win. The ride home talking baseball with my Dad and brother. The recap for my sisters who could care less, or at least tried to hide the joy for their brothers. Dinner talk about the fun we had at the Dome.
I remember the anticipation to do it all over again soon.
