I love baseball and old radios.  My earliest memory of a ball game, other than the after school games my friends and I played, happened with my transistor radio.  Later, when a family friend gave me an old tube radio, I became hooked on two pastimes. 

When I turned on that red Bakelite Zenith the anticipation stirring within me was palpable.  First was the click of the fat knob, then the speaker would softly snap and crackle.  Next, you’d have to wait until the tubes began to glow and hum.  Then a booming baritone voice would pronounce, “Hello sports fans!  It’s a beautiful night for a ball game!” 

Because I grew up in a small town, too far away to visit the ball fields in Minneapolis and Saint Paul, the airwaves were my link to the outside world and to baseball.  During hot summer evenings I’d lie on my bed with the window wide open inviting a cool breeze and be completely mesmerized by the sounds of the game; a vender hawking ‘cold beer’, the crack of a bat, the rising cheers of the crowd and the exuberant applause.  It was heaven.

This is the reason why I collect old microphones and radios.  And it’s also the reason why I’m making “Sibling Rivals”.