I'm so old that....
A kid got a good baseball in early spring and used it until the cover came off. Then when the cover came off, he wrapped it in black electrical tape and kept playing. Talk about sticky stuff on a baseball.
When the first baseball finally became unplayable, the kid scrounged up a quarter and bought a new ball that was packed with sawdust. That ball quickly (about three batters) became lopsided. It did funny things when it was thrown.
Today's pitchers, with all their sticky stuff, had nothing on a ten year old pitcher back then.
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There was one nationally broadcast game a week...on Saturday afternoon. Every kid knew the Gillette razor jingle...to look sharp and to feel sharp, too....he got to see Mantle and Mays and Clemente and Aaron and Musial.
He didn't get to see Colavito, because nobody nationally cared about the Cleveland Indians. Unless....
A Tribe game was broadcast locally, which happened maybe five times a year.
Kids listened to the radio, and radio announcers were stars. Kids knew them as well as they knew the best players.