We all know the word association game: I say a word or name and you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. Let’s try one. I say Mark McGwire. You respond with steroids, cheater, or liar. See you got the idea. Do you remember when your answers were that of a different tune?
Do you remember when your answers were pure and simple? Do you remember when you would respond with things like “70”, or simply “amazing”? I do. With the start of spring training here and Mark McGwire returning to the scene of his remarkable feat or to the scene of the crime, depending on your viewpoint, it just feels like a great time to reflect back.
When I think back to the remarkable summer of ’98, I prefer to do so positively. Don’t get me wrong, I am not naïve to the fact that McGwire cheated all of us, cheated Baseball. I just prefer to be a fan with a selective memory than a curmudgeon with a critical outlook on everything.
Attendance was down across both leagues and the game had become slow and boring. The strike that robbed fans of the 1994 World Series was still fresh in their minds. Most of America was moving on without baseball. Then, like a lightning strike in the midst of the dark night, he appeared. The gentle giant was here to show us that it was still fun to play a kids game.
In his pursuit of the unreachable 61, Mark McGwire led us back to our childhoods. The summer of ’98 is and always will be my favorite. Everyone in America was a fan. Every at-bat was monumental. Live look-ins interrupted every night, no matter what you were watching on TV. The highlight shows were planned around what McGwire did that day.
All across the country, newspapers were following “the Chase.” No matter what city you lived in, a tally of where McGwire stood compared to Ruth and Maris headed your Sports section. The homerun record is as American as hot dogs and backyard barbeques. The whole country wondered if he could do it and they were determined not to miss a moment.
I was there for three games that fateful summer. I purchased tickets for those games the last week of August with every intention of being in attendance for the record-breaking homerun. I wanted to be there for history.
The first game of my predestined trio was on September 5th, with the big guy sitting steady at 59 homers. That day was simply amazing. Before the first pitch, Stan the Man played Take Me Out to the Ball Game with his harmonica and at that moment I just knew McGwire was going to hit three homeruns and become the new Homerun King. That didn’t happen, but he did hit No. 60 and put into motion a series of events that even Jerry Bruckheimer couldn’t have written.
Two days later, on September 7th Mark hit No. 61 with his dad in the stands. Oh yeah, it just so happened to be his father’s 61st birthday. No son could ever top that gift. Roger Maris’s kids were also there, sitting in the front row that day. All five of them stood in appreciation as they watched Mark McGwire transform the record that tormented their father for so long into a nationwide fascination.
You couldn’t have planned a Labor Day weekend better than this one. The next day against the rival Cubs, McGwire finished the deed, hit No. 62 and with that Baseball was back. At that moment I was sitting in front of a television in my living room, but the kid in me was in the backyard pretending I was Mark McGwire. I wasn’t the only one either.
The excitement lasted the rest of the month and the new fascination became wondering how many would McGwire end up with. The last of my three tickets was to the season finale, and since the Cardinals had been out of the playoff picture for weeks, there was only one thing left to figure out: would he get to 70?
He did!
Mark McGwire hit two homeruns that day and ended the six month marathon for the homerun record, with an astonishing total no one would touch. Or so we all thought. So much has happened since that day, so much has changed.
Now when you hear Mark McGwire, many want to forget the past and only talk about steroids. While I am in agreement that McGwire cheated the game and us fans, I choose to remember the summer of 1998 as one I will never forget.
Mark McGwire showed us that the game of baseball is truly our national pastime.
Kevin Kettinger is a baseball aficionado from St. Louis, MO.