My wife and I attended our first game together at the new Nats Park — a great but cold time. Here we are, getting ready to head to the game:

It was a day of runs. In Chicago, the Cubs led by half-a-dozen before the defense imploded. The game went into extra innings before the sluggies won, almost by accident. Before it was over the Buccos plated eight, but it wasn’t enough. At least Ted didn’t throw his glove. The scoring outbreak reached league-wide proportions. In Arizona, the Assholes scored 9, while the White Sox (surprising out of the gate), scored 7. The Tigers continued their head-scratching swoon, a monumental collapse that will undoubtedly land Leyland in intensive care. They are now 0-7 and sinking like a stone. What did I say about Dontrelle? Huh? Huh? Huh?

But enough of the complaints. Despite the five game losing streak, it is good to see Mastings Lilledge hitting the ball, and I have to believe the “Learners” will straighten out the parking situation. Somehow. Now, then, on to the real focus of this entry — one of my favorite Nats’ coaches — Pat Corrales.

Pat wandered over near the first base line before the game

with Paul Lo Duca, coaching him on his throws to second. Corrales was a no-hit, great-gun catcher back when Johnny Bench defined the position. Corrales’ knees are gone, which was apparent during the pre-game intros when he came onto the field for opening day. In any event, Corrales is near-and-dear to my heart: I caught a foul ball he hit back in 1965 in Milwaukee County Stadium when he played for Philly. It was a cold day then too, and Corrales was subbing for Clay Dalrymple. My memory must be going, because I remembered him playing for Houston, but he never did — it was the Phillies and Cincinnati and Padres, and then a semi-distinguished managing career. I yelled at him from the first base line.

“Hey Pat.”
“Yeah.
“Hey Pat, I caught a ball you hit in Milwaukee County Stadium back in ’65 …”
He turned to me and smiled: “Must be worth about 25 cents.”
“No, no way.”
“You still got it?”
I shook my head: “I lost it. I was just a kid. I think I used it for a game.”
He nodded and turned back to Lo Duca and then turned back to me.
“Guess who I saw the other day?” he asked.
“Who?
Dick Allen.”“No kidding, how’s he doing?”
“He’s great.”
“He was a great, great hitter,” I said.
“He sure was.”
“Everytime he came up to the plate against the Cubs he hit it out,” I said.
“Yeah, he could hit.”

Dick Allen had to be one of the best pure hitters in the history of the game. Back in the mid-1970s, when he was at the end of his career, I would drive up to Philly to see him play. This was in ’74 and ’75 and he would still hit these towering home runs. I remember in one game (must have been in ’74), in the bottom of the ninth, Dave LaRoche (a Cubs reliever) set him up with one that ended up in the top row of the old Vet. Buckner, the Cubs first baseman, just couldn’t believe it: I am certain now, from the look that Buckner (God I loved Buckner — who had an overdue good day recently) gave to LaRoche, that Billy was convinced that LaRoche grooved one. Don’t tell me it doesn’t happen.

A similar thing, well — not similar, but you know — happened to me in Milwaukee in the mid 1960s, when I took a bus (I was all of 15 or so) to Milwaukee County Stadium for the sole purpose of seeing Eddie Mathews play. I just loved to watch him play, and this was in the days of daytime double-headers. So Mathews comes up in the first inning and gets a called strike on the first ball he sees and turned to the ump and tells him (and I could hear it): “are you out of your f —ing mind?” And bang, he’s out of the game. And I thought: “what the hell am I doing here? I came all this way on that damned bus and Eddie wanted the day off.”

So, anyway, back to Pat Corrales, who has to be one of the most noble characters in the game. I can just hear him in the dugout. Let’s say, one out and man on third and the pitcher up and the bottom of the eighth. And Manny turns to Corrales and says: “Squeeze him home?” And Corrales shakes his head, thinking, and says: “Well, I remember once back in ….”

I’d love to hear that.