In “Groundhog Day,” one of my favorite movies, Phil Connors picks an enjoyable day from his past and wonders, “Why couldn’t I get that day over, and over, and over….”
Now I don’t want to make it sound like I am stuck in an endless loop at this point in my life, but I look back to what I was doing 20 years ago today and wonder if I could get that day over and over and over.
Less than two years out of college, a short period of unemployment had just ended when I accepted a job in Hanover. While that does rank up there because it led me to my wife and all the wonderful things which have happened over the past two decades, April 3, 1992 stands out for a different reason.
Baltimore opened its new baseball stadium that day.
The official records say that Oriole Park at Camden Yards opened on April 6 of that year, but that doesn’t take into account the exhibition game the team played a few days earlier against the New York Mets.
As luck would have it, my late father was partners in a law firm with someone who played a critical role in the development of the groundbreaking stadium. That allowed us to have a few perks along the way.
One of my sisters and I went downtown a few months before the first games for a special tour of the still-unfinished stadium. Only half of the outfield had grass. Some areas of the facility didn’t have seats yet. The press box had none of the finishing touches I would come to enjoy when I would occasionally cover games over the next few years.
That visit made me appreciate the finished product 20 years ago even more than I expected. Not only had I seen it grow from the outside – I had a part-time job at nearby Harborplace – but I knew the potential a half-finished interior held.
We had the opportunity to watch the exhibition game and home opener in style. The team gave my Dad’s law firm a skybox for the two games. At least I want to think they gave it to the firm, but the owner at the time, Eli Jacobs, needed money. Regardless, we had great seats, plenty of food and perfect weather. I was in heaven even if I knew the team had a bad owner and might have trouble competing.
It’s funny how things come full circle. At that time, I only knew the name Angelos through wrestling – I competed against the son of current Orioles owner Peter Angelos in high school. Now I have the same disdain for Angelos as I did for Jacobs back then with the team nowhere near its glory days.
But even with the problems Orioles fans seem to always have with the team’s owner, we still have those sun-soaked days in early April 1992. We have that first vision of the green seats. We have that feeling of awe from when we first saw the warehouse looming in center field. We remember the hope that a new beginning provides to a baseball fan.
As I watch this year’s version of the Orioles (probably) stumble their way through Opening Day on Friday, I’ll probably think back to Phil Connors and his wistful memories of the day he’d rather have the one he has in front of him.