Fifty-two years ago, I was eleven years old, and I led off the bottom of the 6th with the score tied 8-8. The pitcher grooved one, and I parked it about a foot-and-a-half over the left field fence. I think it scraped the back of the fence on the way down, but it was my first home run, and a walk-off to boot!
Dad took Mom and the family down to City Dairy afterward and bought everyone whatever they wanted. Talk about sitting on top of the world! Coincidentally, my uniform number was 11, just like the recently-passed Bill Freehan. Those were the days!