(Photo credit of Doon Public upper field by Franz Becken-Totski)

 

There's an ad on my favourite radio station (Q107) in which morning man John Derringer talks about being blown away the first time he heard a drum riff in a certain Led Zeppelin song and how he wishes he could hear it again for the very first time.

 

As a sports guy, this reflection got me thinking about things I experienced for the first time that took my breath away.

 

Here then, in chronological order, are four sport-related experiences that thrilled me so much, I'd give up Diet Coke for the rest of my life just to have a do-over:

 

If you build it, people will come

 

I can remember like it was yesterday the morning my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Weber, walked our class down to the school gymnasium for the first time to show us where we'd be having our P.E. classes.

 

We were all mesmerized.

 

The visceral feeling I experienced that day was similar to the one I felt the first time I stepped into the Kitchener Auditorium later on as a boy.

 

It was similar to the one I felt the first time I entered a major league sports arena - the Buffalo Auditorium to see the long-gone-but-never-forgotten Braves play basketball.

 

And it was similar to the one I felt the first time I attended a football game in an NFL-size venue - also in Buffalo to see the Bills play to a sell-out crowd of 80,000 in then Rich Stadium.

 

I say similar because as impressed as I was on those three occasions (I couldn't believe how steep the stairs were in the upper level of the old Buffalo Aud), they never came close to the jaw-dropping wonderment of that moment at Rockway Public.

 

Walking into that gym for the very first time was so mind-blowing to all of us, I can remember classmates literally gasping upon entry and spontaneously uttering things like "wow", "cool" and "holy moly".

 

Not to put too fine a point on it but the cute girl in my class who slept on a blanket next to me during nap time everyday was no longer the most impressive vision my 5 year-old eyes had ever gazed upon.

 

Don't get me wrong - when I walked into Jerry's World (a.k.a. AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas) two years ago to see the Dallas Cowboys host my Los Angeles Rams and a sellout crowd of 105,000, I was pretty damn impressed.

 

But even that feeling did not match the one on that sunny September morning in 1964 when Mrs. Weber opened those doors and rocked my world - so to speak.

 

And that was without a $12 beer in my hands and two more already in my belly.

 

I love the smell of bubblegum in the morning. It smells like…innocence

 

As a kid, I was very aware of my dad's baseball card collection.

 

I'm not sure why he didn't collect other sports cards but then again, he was first and foremost, a baseball fan.

 

Mickey Mantle…Pee Wee Reese…Willie Mays…Gil Hodges…etc.

 

I ogled them for hours. Read all the bios on back. And then carefully re-wrapped them in the single elastic band they were bound in and placed them back inside the shoebox they called home.

 

Not sure exactly when but sometime after that cute girl and I stopped sleeping together on Mrs. Weber's tile floor, my late father took my brother and I to the old Courtland Dairy Bar on (you guessed it) Courtland Avenue to purchase our first set of cards.

 

I don't recall what players I got but I do remember these things: they were definitely baseball cards; the wrapping was shiny and waxy and folded in the back with just enough adhesive to keep it closed but not so much that pulling it apart was a task; and the sweet aroma that immediately wafted out was absolutely intoxicating.

 

That beautifully pink and stiff-as-a-board stale bubblegum lost its flavour faster than the time it took to rifle through the all of five cards inside and was coated in a mysterious white powder I'm sure wasn't good for me but, holy moly, it was Fleer heaven.

 

I'd give up my entire collection of hockey, baseball, Beatles, Batman (series #1 thru #5), Man From Uncle, Monkees and Combat (the TV show) cards just to experience that first moment of whiff-and-wonderment again.

 

Hell, I'd even throw in my Sheriff Pudding coins, my Bee Hive corn syrup photographs and my Export "A" hockey calendars…if only I could find them.

(I'm looking at you, mom!)

 

Think about it - how many truly great moments are there in life? You know, the kind that are etched in your mind forever.

 

Opening up your first pack of cards, tossing that powdery rose-coloured edible oil product in your mouth, caressing the sharp-edged corners all the way home in the back seat of the family car with no seat belt on, bolting over to your buddy's house like your Vitalis-combed hair was on fire…

 

The whole experience was cooler than the Mr. Sno-Cone machine I got on Christmas morning that year.

 

"Got 'em…got 'em…need 'em…got 'em… "

 

Clear the track, here comes Shack…

 

In an act of teenage rebellion, I switched allegiance from the Toronto Maple Leafs to the Montreal Canadiens in 1972 which - as it turns out - wasn't the dumbest thing I've ever done.

 

But in the early spring of 1967, I was still a die-hard Buds fan and I had the Maple Leafs colouring books to prove it.

(They're in memorabilia heaven somewhere with my cards, coins, calendars, etc.)

 

On the night the Leafs won the Stanley Cup by knocking off my then-despised but future fave team (i.e. - the Habs) in six games, my brother and I were allowed to stay up late on a school night to watch the game.

 

The Leafs were the first sports team of any kind I ever rooted for if you don't count the Water Buffalo Lodge bowling team Fred and Barney played on.

 

I remember that I had to have a bath before the game (loved how the Vitalis formed little multi-coloured oil slicks on the surface), put on my PJs and brush my teeth in order gain parental permission.

 

In retrospect, the teeth brushing didn't make a ton of sense given the fact that my brother and I were also allowed to make a batch of Jiffy Pop stovetop popcorn prior to game time but who was I to question things?

 

Johnny Bower, Dave Keon, a pre-coffee kingdom Tim Horton, Bobby Baun, captain George Armstrong, Frank "the Big M" Mahovlich and my personal favourite Eddie "The Entertainer" Shack.

 

I was pumped when the Jays won the World Series in '92 and '93. I was thrilled when the Rams won the Super Bowl in 2000. And I was absolutely ecstatic when the Raptors took it all this spring.

 

But none of those moments could ever match the feelings of a seven year-old boy in his wagon wheel pajamas, rolling around the floor on a cream soda high as he watched his favourite players - the ones he had carefully Crayola'd inside the lines - capture the Cup.

 

He shoots, he scores!!

 

I cannot remember my first birdie or my first par, for that matter.

 

I do not recall my first base hit, my first red ribbon, my first basket or my first touchdown.

 

But I do recall the first goal I ever scored in an organized sports setting and surprisingly, it was not in hockey.

 

My first official goal occurred in Grade 5 while playing soccer for Wilson Avenue Public School and Mr. Smith, our P.E. teacher/coach (no one said "phys. ed." back then - it was always "P.E."). It was against Doon Public and it was on their field.

 

I remember exactly how it happened, too.

 

There was a scramble in front of their goal. Players from both teams were crowded together like a bunch of, well, Grade 5 public school soccer players. My brother was right beside me and then suddenly there was the ball - sitting so close to the goal line that its shadow was already in the net.

 

Faster than you can say "holy moly", I hoofed that sucker so hard, my big toe hurt for days.

(I can't believe the NHLPA running shoes I got on sale at the Woolco department store at Fairview Mall didn't have better protection. They were orange and super-cool with no absolutely support but had these little NHLPA hockey player images on the side and…sorry, I've wandered off a bit…)

 

Two more things about this moment.

 

I scored another goal that day and we won 2-0 but for the life of me, I have absolutely no recollection of that second marker.

 

My first one ever is etched in my mind forever. The second one - nada.

 

The other interesting thing is that I actually dreamt about the game that same night.

 

I know this because my brother and I shared a bedroom and he told me in the morning that I was talking in my sleep and said things like "I scored, I scored" and "Doon sucks" and "Holy moly, my toe hurts" over and over again.

 

Well, maybe not the last two things but the first one for sure.

 

It's the circle, the circle of life…

 

Of course, there are many other first-time thrills in life that have nothing at all to do with sports - the birth of your first child, for example.

 

For me, that's a moment I will never forget and sometime later this month, my eldest will experience that type of moment when my future granddaughter arrives and takes centre stage.

 

This will, in turn, provide me with another exciting first-time moment when I lay eyes on a grandchild of mine for the very first time.

 

Holy moly - where does  the time go?

 

I can hardly wait for her first birthday when she  lays eyes on the sweet pair of orange NHLPA's I nabbed for her on eBay.