Opening day of baseball

Today, March 27, 2025, marks the opening day of the MLB season. I love the sound of baseball games filling the summer air.

Last week, my friend Stan shared a story with me about his friendship with Gaylord Perry, the Cy Young winner for the 1972 Cleveland Indians. He told me about a lunch they once had together, where Stan brought up a memory from his childhood. As a young boy, he’d been in the right field stands for the 1972 All-Star Game, and one moment from that day stuck with him vividly.

“Hank Aaron hit a line drive that smacked the outfield wall and bounced over for a home run,” Stan recalled, his eyes lighting up as he told Gaylord the story.

“I remember it well, Stan,” Gaylord replied with a knowing nod.

“It was the only home run Hank ever hit in an All-Star Game,” Stan added proudly.

Gaylord leaned in slightly. “Do you remember who threw the pitch?”

Stan paused, then admitted, “Unfortunately, I don’t.”

“It was me,” Gaylord said, a faint grin crossing his face.

Stan laughed as he told me how embarrassed he felt, missing such a key detail about a moment he’d replayed in his mind for years.

This morning, I met Stan at our Bible study group. He brought along a pristine copy of the program from that 1972 All-Star Game, a treasure he’d kept all these years. He shook his head with a sheepish smile and handed it to me. “I still can’t believe I didn’t remember Gaylord threw that pitch,” he said. “It’s funny—I could see that home run clear as day, but the guy on the mound? Totally slipped my mind.”

Then he looked at me thoughtfully. “The moral of the story,” he said, “is that for every glorious home run someone hits, there’s another player who threw the pitch. Two sides to every highlight.”

That idea stuck with me. As I sit here on opening day, I know it’s a story I’ll carry through the season—a reminder that every triumph has its unsung counterpart.