I miss the days of the paper ballots for the All-Star Game. Sitting in Veterans Stadium with the cheap golf pencil handed out with scorecards and being able to punch out the names of the players I felt were most deserving is a core memory for me. Something I’ll never forget.
Now, were I to share that memory with my baseball obsessed son, he’d likely scan my face quizzically, wondering at exactly what made me so old.
Choosing All-Stars is a right of passage for any baseball fan, young or old. While we may have wondered about hanging chads long before 2000, stuffing ballot boxes with circles punched out for Von Hayes and Pete Incaviglia is something I’ll never forget.