A Daughter’s Treat, Taking her Astros-Loving, 80-Year-Old Dad to his First Playoff Game
By Diana Martinez
As I turned into my parent’s driveway and turned off the engine I thought, “My childhood has the sounds of baseball as a soundtrack.”
I jumped out of my car quickly, and rounded the corner to see my father Juan R. Martinez standing there, wearing the soft blue Father’s Day jersey he got at the Astros’ game this year.
“I’m ready. Let’s go!” my father said, clutching a worn leather glove, a big smile illuminating his face. The man was beaming. He was going to his first playoff game in his 80 years of life, and he could hardly wait.
I grew up in a “baseball” family, with a father who played in the local softball leagues for fun. His childhood dream had always been to play in the majors. My dad grew up in the 1940s and 1950s, the golden era of baseball. He grew up watching the greats: Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Hank Aaron and more. He idolized Babe Ruth.
My dad was a fan of the Yankees and Dodgers before the Astros franchise had even existed. When my sisters and I were growing up, he took the time to explain the game. He made sure that we understood the basics and the rules. He made sure that we fell in love with the idiosyncrasies of the game. I have very vivid memories of watching Jose Canseco and Daryl Strawberry, among other names, as my dad would explain the game to us.
Originally from Torreon, Mexico, my dad’s life path inspired him to move around, trying new adventures in life. He was a parachuter with the Mexican Air Force, an EMT, and he also did some boxing but quit when my horrified grandmother told him it broke her heart to see him get in the boxing ring.
Finally, he landed near the northern border with south Texas, where he met this young and beautiful beauty queen who was somehow resistant to his obvious charm. Most of her family was in Texas, so they stayed put and began to raise a family. My dad now had a new team to follow: the young Houston Astros and their ace pitcher Nolan Ryan.
Of course, as a lover of all things baseball, he always watched any baseball game on TV, and often followed other teams such as the 1980’s Athletics, or the Royal or Orioles. There was always the sound of a baseball game in the background.
After my family moved to Houston to be closer to my mom’s family, we began a family tradition of attending Astros games at the Astrodome in Houston. I continued to follow the Astros closely, even as an awkward and nerdy teenager. I knew everything about my team and got to meet the Killer Bs many times at the Dome.
I often wore Astros gear to school. Back then it was extremely rare to find such fandom in other girls my age. I’m really happy to see how that has changed over the years. I never did grow out of my Astros obsession. I have raised my own as third-generation fans. My baseball-playing son dreams of one day becoming a baseball player and playing for the Houston Astros. My dad couldn’t be prouder.
As we made our way to Game 2 of the Division Series against the Tampa Bay Rays, we found we were early enough to enjoy some of the pre-game festivities, so we made our way there, orange rally towels in hand. With Gerrit Cole on the mound, we were in a confident and celebratory mood.
Dad rarely turns down a beer when it involves baseball, so we grabbed a couple of Astros-themed Crawford Bocks and watched some of the concert. We also people-watched before we decided to make our way inside to find our seats and some food. We were seated right beneath the gigantic scoreboard in right field, the atmosphere was festive, and energy was high.
We found our seats and then went to grab more beer and some food, which we quickly had to wolf down as the game was electric from the start and kept us on our feet. I kept stealing glances at my dad. He was so happy. The joy radiated from him. He sang every song, did every wave, every chant, he cheered for the good guys and booed the opponents.
His eyes were twinkling by the time our Astros walked away with the victory. A lot of people, mostly women, made eye contact with us and would smile sweetly at our father-daughter dynamic. We were so starry-eyed; we didn’t even mind the walk back to the parking garage blocks away.
My dad was still animatedly talking about the game we just watched. It was past midnight and he was still so full of energy, probably adrenaline. On our way to the parking garage, I spotted a bike carriage, and hired them to drive us so my dad didn’t have to tire himself further.
As always, he made the best out of the midnight carriage ride through downtown, cracking jokes and being funny. One thing about my dad is that he’s such an excellent conversationalist – intelligent, well-learned, educated and quick-witted. He loves his dad jokes.
I smiled to myself as I took it all in, knowing how much I will treasure these moments for the rest of my life, and contemplating how the game of baseball has truly given my father and me a beautiful and unbreakable bond.
Featured Image: Diana Martinez