It was sometime during the summer of 1964; I don't remember the exact date. The hometown St. Louis Cardinals were in the middle of one of the most fantastic pennant drives in baseball history. However, as a six-year-old kid, I was oblivious to this fact when I attended my first major league ball game. I barely knew the difference between a ball and a strike when my father took me and my older brothers to watch the Redbirds take on the New York Mets at OLD, OLD Busch Stadium (formerly known as Sportsman's Park).
This venue was where I first heard the ROAR. It happened while we were sitting in our general admission seats on the upper deck. The game at the time meant little to me as I was fixated mostly on the spectacle of seeing the largest mass of humanity I had ever seen gathered before my young eyes.
Then suddenly, cork...ROOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRR!!!!!!
Tens of thousands of people were standing and cheering loudly. The sound reminded me of the noise my toy walkie-talkie made when the volume on its static was turned all the way up. I looked at my Dad with a mix of surprise and puzzlement. He knew I didn't know what the hell was going on and told me, "The Cardinals just got a hit."
Over the years since that first game, I have become quite an avid, and I'd like to think, a knowledgeable fan of the Cardinals and the sport, in general. Now, I've heard that roar in the following years during many exciting and memorable moments at differing venues. However, none of those instances have equaled how the sensation felt when I experienced it for the first time.
