Myriad Memories so thick we have to brush them away from our faces

The site of the former Myriad Convention Center is empty as it awaits construction on new arena.

A few weeks ago, my friend Ed and I had an appointment in Midtown OKC when we decided to go take a look at the site of the Incomparable Myriad to see the progress made on its demolition.

As you probably know, the gigantic concrete box that opened in 1972 as the Myriad Convention Center was demolished to make way for a new billion dollar arena built for the Oklahoma City Thunder. Along its 53-year journey, the name transitioned from the Myriad to the Cox Business Center and finally to the Prairie Surf Studios.

I admit I was surprised when we approached the 2-square block site of the Myriad and there was nothing but a gigantic empty lot. The site looked  even larger to me than it actually is, because now it’s a sea of dirt stretching from E.K. Gaylord Blvd. to Robinson Ave.

Ed slowed down to let me jump out to take some photos while he drove around the block(s). When I got back into the car, we shared some of the experiences we had at the old arena.

Then Ed said, “you should write a blog post about your Myriad memories.”

So, that’s the purpose of this post. I’m sharing my favorite memories of the building that date back to the late ’70s. But I’ve also asked Ed and several other Oklahomans to share their Myriad memories.

I’ve got three memories that stand out to me.

My first visit to the Myriad took place in roughly 1979 or ’80 when I accompanied a group of folks from Fort Smith, Ark., to attend the National Finals Rodeo. I was a young sports writer at the Southwest Times Record and was sent on assignment with the Fort Smith Old Fort Days Rodeo committee to experience the NFR.

What stands out in my mind is the location from which I witnessed the rodeo. They stationed me on the actual arena dirt behind the protection of metal fencing. So you might say I had an up-close-and-personal look at the National Finals Rodeo.

My second Myriad memory is attending a John (Cougar) Mellencamp concert at the venue in February 1986. I’m not a big concert goer, but I was (and am) a fan of John Mellencamp’s music, so I enjoyed being part of a full house, both on the floor and in arena seats. I was struck by how awesome the violinist (fiddler?) was who accompanied him on several songs.

Finally, my favorite Myriad memory is that of New Years Eve 1990. I took my future wife, Paula, to see the Oklahoma City Cavalry on our first date. I know, I’m a real romantic. Turns out, Paula may be a bigger basketball fan than am I, and has seen far more OKC Thunder games at Paycom Center over the years than I have.

Now I’m turning this over to 10 Oklahomans who share diverse memories from their experiences at the Myriad over the decades.

First up is Oklahoma City Mayor David Holt, who is also Dean of the Oklahoma City University School of Law and author of the book: Big League City: Oklahoma City’s Rise to the NBA

If you get a little misty-eyed about the Myriad, it’s understandable. It may not have been much to look at, but it was the center of our community’s life in a unique way that will never happen here again.

The Myriad opened in 1972.  Until the opening of the Ford Center in 2002, it was the city’s primary arena.  Until the opening of the Oklahoma City Convention Center in 2021, it was also the city’s primary convention center.  And until the city’s explosion in growth around the time of the Thunder’s arrival in 2008, the demand on the Myriad’s schedule was mostly for community events.  All of this is worth noting, because it means that for about four decades, practically every major moment we experienced as a resident of this city was at the Myriad.  The Myriad occupied an emotional place in Oklahoma City life that no venue will ever occupy again.  In 2026, we utilize many venues to host that which was once held at the Myriad.  And increased demand for national entertainment events and conventions means that community events once held at the Myriad are less likely to occur at its successor venues.

It is probably also worth noting that the prime decades for the Myriad were some of the worst decades in the city’s overall history.  From a historical perspective, we can appreciate that.  But within that narrative, we were living our lives.  The milestones of our individual lives were largely unencumbered by the greater challenges facing our city.  And those milestones occurred at the Myriad.  Any OKC resident born between 1950 and 1985 is going to have a very long list of personal experiences tied to the Myriad.  For me, it will always be the place I graduated high school, took the Bar exam and delivered my first two State of the City addresses.  It was where I attended countless memorable athletic events and concerts.  It was the focal point of our city’s shared experience.  We’ll each carry those warm feelings forward as we experience the glorious new future destined for this site in the heart of our city.

Ed Godfrey is a now-retired longtime reporter at The Oklahoman who shares an unforgettable memory of the Myriad from 26 years ago.

Memories of the Myriad? There are many. I recall a great Whitney Houston concert there in 1987 and a tremendous Reba McEntire performance the following year.

But my most vivid memory came on March 13, 1998. I was the county courthouse reporter for The Oklahoman newspaper and covering a trial when the jury went out to deliberate that afternoon.

I left my pager number with someone in the judge’s office and asked to be paged when there was a verdict. With time to kill, I made the short walk to the Myriad to meet some colleagues from work and go to an NCAA basketball tournament game between 13th-seeded Valparaiso and 4th-seeded Ole Miss.

Thankfully, the jury didn’t reach a verdict before the end of the game, because it allowed me to witness one of the greatest buzzer beaters in NCAA history.

Valparaiso trailed 69-67 with 2.5 seconds left and had to inbound the ball from under its own basket and go the length of the court. I thought the game was over, as I’m sure everybody in the Myriad did.

I mean, how would Valparaiso even get a shot up, other than a Hail Mary, with just 2.5 seconds left? Ole Miss put a defender in front of Valparaiso’s Jaime Sykes, who was inbounding the ball.

Sykes heaved the ball over the halfcourt line to a leaping Bill Jenkins, who caught the pass and tossed it to Bryce Drew, who was streaking beside him, before Jenkins’ feet even hit the floor. Drew caught it and immediately fired up a 23-foot 3-point shot to win the game.

The Myriad erupted. No one could believe what they had just seen.
I don’t remember the verdict that day in the trial I was covering. I don’t even remember who was on trial or what it was about.

But I will always remember that shot and the noise in the arena at that moment

Don Mecoy had a long tenure at The Oklahoman as both a reporter and editor, closing out his career as the newspaper’s managing editor.

The Myriad, while incomparable in name only, was a happy place for me. I attended scores of events there over the decades, including graduation ceremonies, sporting events, business conferences and concerts.

I even worked there. As a reporter, I covered a 1991 appearance at the downtown arena by the Rev. Jesse Jackson. I was posted at a table along the front of the stage, with the 12,000 attendees at the National Baptist Conference seated behind me.

At one point, Jackson asked all the men in the arena to stand. I am a man, so I stood.

“Look at all these beautiful Black faces,” Jackson implored the crowd.
I am not Black, so I eventually sat back down.

But I digress. My favorite event that I ever attended at the Myriad was a Yes concert. I was a pretty big fan of the prog-rock band. But the performance, delivered from a rotating round stage in the middle of the arena floor, was much better than I had expected.

I even looked it up to make sure my memory hadn’t been faulty. It was indeed at the Myriad on June 5, 1979.

Coincidentally, that’s my wedding anniversary – just 14 years before the fact, and about six years before I even met my wife.

Scott Munn is also an alumnus of The Oklahoman, toiling for decades on the sports desk as both a reporter and an editor.

There were a few people who suggested that I keep a cot in a closet. For a few years in the early to mid-1990s, I was at the Myriad every night of the winter, covering either the Blazers hockey team or the Cavalry basketball team.

The Blazers would play Friday night, the Cavs on Saturday, etc. I was able to see Ryan Minor’s brief stay with the Cavalry before he went on the play baseball for the Baltimore Orioles and become the answer to a trivia question — who replaced Cal Ripken Jr., after he ended the consecutive games played record?

I witnessed Smokin’ Joe Burton develop from a rookie forward into the greatest player in Central Hockey League history. Fights. 10,000 people in the stands almost every game. The atmosphere made you feel like you were at an NHL game.

The Myriad had typical arena smells. Fried onion burgers, hot popcorn and Little Caeser’s Pizza. Even the parking garage under the arena had an odd, indescribable smell, which I think was a combination of automobile fuel and mold.

I really hated to see the Myriad go down. I saw a lot of games, stood for my share of national anthems — both American and Canadian (yes, I can sing “Oh Canada”). I tried to get one of those orange folding chairs from press row, just for memory-sake. But my “connection” never got back to me, so I figure those chairs went to the landfill like the rest of the grand old place.

Larry Newman is retired from a long career in the technology industry, but also worked part time on The Oklahoman’s sports desk while an OU student in the early 1980s.

My favorite memories of the Myriad involved time spent with my dad. We had season tickets to the Oklahoma City Blazers and Stars for about seven seasons in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

We rarely missed a game and enjoyed watching many great players when Oklahoma City was the farm club of the Calgary Flames and Minnesota North Stars.

Dad went to heaven three years ago, but the cherished memories remain vivid.

Steve Buck is a longtime friend, avid sports fan and public servant who worked for two governors and now is CEO of Care Providers Oklahoma.

Growing up in Altus, going to the Myriad was a magical treat. Even as I aged, I could never call it anything but “The Myriad” (sorry Cox). I experienced so many great events from hockey matches to CBA Hoops (Go Calvary!) and NCAA tournaments to State FFA conventions.

But the concerts are the events I remember the most. I saw some great ones, but by far the most historic was the May, 1991 event dubbed as “Farm Fest ’91”. One of my good friends helped organize the event to support our state’s farmers and the line-up of Oklahoma connected country superstars was unbelievable … Garth Brooks. Vince Gill. Restless Heart. Joe Diffie. Just an incredible night of music and an extraordinary reflection of the star power that calls our state home.

Marc Anderson and his wife, Michelle, served as Den Masters to my son’s Cub Scout Pack in the late 1990s.

I moved to OKC in 1991 and as I became entrenched in the community I would attend games at the Myriad with friends. Here are some core memories of the arena:

The May 1999 tornado and being evacuated to the parking garage during the game (Blazers?).

Also, graduations! My son, Reece, graduated in May 2014, daughter Quinn in 2016 and youngest son Beck in 2017, all at the Myriad.

There are some secondary memories, as well. Blazers hockey games, Oklahoma Calvary games and the arena’s final days as the Prairie Sky Studio, because my son, Beck, worked there for two years.

Kent Taylor is another longtime friend who is retired from a career in the oil and gas industry.

As an Okie who grew up watching football, baseball, and basketball, I was introduced to hockey at the Myriad Convention Center. An older couple from our church first invited my wife, Jamie, and me to our first game. Over the years, we attended a number of Blazer games.

I also recall attending the men’s gymnastics competition during the Olympic Festival in 1988 or maybe it was 1989. The Olympic Festival provided the opportunity for Oklahoma City to showcase itself to the country. Maybe the Olympic Festival was the springboard that birthed the renewal of downtown OKC.

Steve Hill served as Chief of Staff to two Oklahoma City mayors, Mick Cornett and David Holt, and before that was a renowned newspaper columnist and cartoonist.

I saw so many great shows at the Incomparable Myriad.

I saw Queen, twice. I also saw ELO, Neil Young, Thin Lizzy, and Whitney Houston. I think tickets were $12 for most of those shows.

I interviewed UB40 in the Green Room at the Myriad. By “interviewed,” I mean recording a conversation fueled by a ridiculous amount of Heinekens.

UB40 was opening for the Police. Mickey Virtue, the band’s keyboard player, told me to come sit on top of the on-stage speaker monitors during their opening set. So I did. Stayed there for the Police, eliciting a funny look from guitarist Andy Summers. Best seats ever.

I was friends with the Cavalry ownership group when the CBA came to OKC. I wound up selecting and playing the music during games.

OKC’s Steve Burtt was checking into a game. As he waited for the ref to motion him in, he told me he liked the baseball cap I was wearing.

“You want it?” I asked.

“Yeah!” He replied.

I tossed him the hat off my head. He grabbed it and ran back to the bench to stow it before checking in.

The CBA.

Best part of the Cavs experience was lunchtime pick-up games on the Myriad court with my buddies Mick Cornett, Dean Blevins, and other media guys.

I forget the OKC Barons played at the Myriad/Cox Convention Center in its latter years — that team was insane with future NHL stars Jordan Eberle, Ryan Nugent-Hopkins, Taylor Hall and Justin Shultz starting for the Barons. Loved going to Barons’ games.

Russ Florence is a longtime friend, music aficionado, writer and all-around renaissance man who also serves as OKC-based partner, President and CEO of the consulting and PR firm, Schnake Turnbo Frank.

Russ wrote a story for The Oklahoman last year about a 1977 concert experience he had at the Myriad as a 13-year old. Here are some key paragraphs and a link to the entire story on The Oklahoman’s website:

Afterward, Gary and I walked out the north doors of the Myriad, into the downtown streets with thousands of long-haired fans. We were probably the only ones looking for our parents. Neither of us recalled instructions about where to meet them. Just, you know, “find us afterward, somewhere.”

Amidst the revelry and the traffic, we looked toward the corner of Sheridan and Robinson, and Gary pointed. “There they are,” he said. Indeed, there were his parents, idling in their giant Ford LTD, cigarette smoke rolling out of their windows. They didn’t have a care in the world. How did they know when the show would be over? How did they know we would find them? Where did they go while Gary and I were at the concert? I’m envisioning a couple of Crown and Cokes at a dark, wood-paneled restaurant on the city’s west side, or a little beer joint that played George Jones on the jukebox.

“How was she?” Gary’s dad asked.

“He,” Gary said. “Alice Cooper is a ‘he.’ He was good.”

Click here to read the entire story at The Oklahoman website.

Thanks to these fellow Oklahomans who shared their memories of the Myriad Convention Center built across decades of sports events, concerts, graduations and more. And thank you, Ed, for suggesting this post.

If you have your own memories of attending an event at the Myriad, please share them in comments below. 

 

Aerial view of the brand new Myriad Convention Center in 1972.

What’s in a name? Apparently, a lot in OKC Baseball Club rebrand to ‘Comets’ … Or not much.

Comets scorebard
The Bricktown Ballpark scoreboard shows the team’s new name at reveal event.

The Oklahoma City Baseball Club revealed its new name, “Comets,” in a ceremony Saturday evening at the Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark witnessed by at least a couple thousand enthusiastic fans.

I was among those who showed up for the Big Reveal, so I can attest to the collective cheer that went up when the “Comets” name and logo appeared on the scoreboard screen.

I was not expecting “Comets,” although I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe “Flycatchers,” which my friend Ed Godfrey had predicted as the future team name. Or the “Waving Wheats” or something that related to Oklahoma.

An aside: There’s is already a “Flycatchers” team in Oklahoma in the Pecos League team Blackwell Flycatchers.  Yes, Blackwell.

The OKC club tried hard to make “Comets” make sense for OKC baseball fans by linking it to Commerce, OK, native and MLB Hall of Famer Mickey Mantle. If you are like me, over the age of 60 and a long-time baseball fan, you know that Mantle was known as the “Commerce Comet.”

But if you are, say, 30 years old and a casual baseball fan, you may not even know who Mickey Mantle is or that he was from Oklahoma or that he had the “Comet” nickname.

In its presentation that night at the ballpark, the team also pointed out that stadium is located on Mickey Mantle Drive.

I thought it was a pretty big reach to link the “Comet” name to Mantle, but not entirely out of order. The team also linked the “Comets” name to the number of astronauts who were native Oklahomans.

Now THAT is a reach.

Ed Godfrey attended the event with me, and he was pretty ambivalent to the “Comets.” If I remember correctly, he said “meh.”

But our mutual friend, Steve Buck, had a much stronger reaction. About two minutes after the “Comets” name reveal, Steve unloaded on the name in our group text.

“Comets!!!! Why? Help me understand please? I hate it”

Yes, but how do you really feel, Steve?

The reaction on social media was similar, with dozens of folks posting on Twitter (now X) their opposition to the new name.

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However, they aren’t ALL negative. In fact, Whitley O’Connor, co-founder of the Curbside Chronicle, went so far as to declare it the “best name in OKC Baseball’s history.”

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Whitley makes a good point.

Before we left the “Comets” name reveal event on Saturday night at the Ballpark, I ran into my friend Russ Florence, and his son, Luke. Russ was all in on the new name, so I told him about Steve’s instant reaction.

“He’ll love it by the end of next season,” Russ predicted.

Bottom line: I’m pretty sure the actual name of the team won’t lure more people to the ballpark next year or drive any away. (Full disclosure: Steve Buck and I are both partial season ticket holders; and the team name won’t influence our decisions to follow the team)

Those of us who attend Comets games will be there just to watch some good ball, as my old editor, the late Bob Colon, would say.

As Ed and I were walking out of the stadium afterward, Ed said the name really didn’t matter because the team would change it in three years, anyway (presumably for the boost in merchandise sales, for you cynics).

If that is true, then the “Comets” name is perfect, I replied. A comet appears in the sky one night, and a few nights later it has disappeared.

And we’ll be on the the next name.

OKC’s Golden Age of Tweetups & OpenBeta

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I came across the obituary last week of Oklahoma City business leader Phil Scaramucci. I never met him, but his name was familiar. As I read further into his life story, I came across the name of his wife, Avis.

I don’t know Avis, either, but I know of her as the founder of the now departed Nonna’s Ristorante in Bricktown. That was in the obituary, as well.

And THAT led me to recall an event I attended at Nonna’s in 2009. It was called a “Tweetup,” one among many such events that sprang up across OKC and elsewhere in that era, which provided the opportunity to meet my new Twitter friends in real life.

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The Tweetup at Nonna’s was such fun. Probably well over 100 people attended, and, as I recall, there was free food and drink. I don’t know who paid for it. Great networking opportunities.

Tweetups became such a thing that I received an invitation to attend a Tweetup at the 2009 International BIO convention that I attended on behalf of i2E and the Greater OKC Chamber.

What set Tweetups apart — and what I call Early Twitter of the late 2000s — was how positive and upbeat everyone was. Folks were eager to lift one another up, and the concept of Twitter trolls had yet to appear to spoil the fun.

Social media was emerging in importance in that era. In fact, my friend Russ Florence, President and CEO of the Consulting and PR firm Schnake Turnbo Frank, recently told me that his firm was among the first to hire a social media and digital media specialist.

I found my way onto Twitter in the Spring of 2008 at Russ’s invitation. I worked as a Business News reporter at The Oklahoman, and discovered Twitter to be an incredible fountain of information and news.

So, I jumped into the deep end and have never left.

About that same time, another phenomenon occurred with the rise of co-working spaces. The first I recall was OKC CoCo — for Coworking Collaborative — created in downtown OKC by Derrick Parkhurst.

Derrick began hosting what he called “OpenBetas” on a semi-regular basis. OpenBetas were events where anyone could pitch their innovation or new business concept. There was food and drink and a festive upbeat atmosphere.

For example, Oklahoma native and entrepreneur Noah Everett shared details of his company called Twitpic at an OpenBeta event back in those days. Twitpic was huge in early Twitter as a way to post your photos.

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Oklahoman and Twitpic founder Noah Everett discusses his venture at OpenBeta in 2009.

Another friend, Dan Lovejoy, today an Enterprise Architect Expert for OG&E, also fondly recalled the era of Tweetups and OpenBetas.

Screenshot“That really felt like an extension of the heyday of the blogosphere when so many people were blogging,” Dan told me. “I remember in those early days I would follow anyone from Oklahoma.

“I spoke at one of those (OpenBetas). They were fun.”

Fast forward to today’s Twitter, which is now known as “X” and owned by Elon Musk, who seems intent upon running into the ground. Many of my old Twitter friends have fled the site as the number of trolls increased exponentially and negativity is everywhere.

I’m still on Twitter (I refuse to call it “X”), if only because it remains a great source for breaking news, both local and beyond. I try my best to ignore the trolls, bots and MAGA acolytes.

But that’s where we are in 2024. Far removed from the naivety of Tweetups and OpenBetas.

So, I’m sorry for the loss of Phil Scaramucci, but I’m glad I got to read his life story in the paper. And how it reminded me of that 2009 Tweetup at Nonna’s.

Tweetups and Nonna’s are now only fond memories. Sadly, neither will ever be replaced.

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Networking at OpenBeta in roughly 2009.

Poultry ruling or punchline that took way too long?

Poultry ruling

As a public service, I’m repeating a newspaper headline from this week that I’m sure a lot of people missed because it’s 2023 and there’s no longer a place for the daily paper in their lives.

“Ruling puts water pollution stamp on poultry companies”

I had deja vu all over again when I stumbled across the story on page 4A of Friday’s edition of The Oklahoman.

The case began in 2005 when then Oklahoma Attorney General Drew Edmondson filed a lawsuit on behalf of the state against 13 integrated poultry companies.

Edmondson alleged the poultry companies — most based in Western Arkansas — had polluted the Illinois River basin from the spread of chicken manure across pasture and cropland .

So, why is this important enough that I write a blog post about it?

Well, in 2008 I was a Business News reporter for The Oklahoman, with agriculture as one of my beats. When a hearing began in February 2008 in Federal Court in Tulsa on Edmondson’s bid for an injunction against spreading poultry manure in the Illinois River watershed, my job required I cover it for the paper.

drew edmondson
Drew Edmondson at poultry hearing.

The hearing was held in Tulsa federal courthouse before Judge Gregory K. Frizzell.

Turns out, the injunction hearing turned into a long-haul of court dates. It ran through four February hearings before a week’s pause, and then picked up in March for another week.

There was testimony from “expert” witnesses and acrimony between attorneys for both sides.

Judge Frizzell was clearly frustrated over the slow pace of the hearing.

“Frankly, this is the longest preliminary injunction hearing I’ve ever conducted,” Frizzell was quoted as saying in one of my stories.

What do I remember of the hearing 15 years later?  Seared into my memory is how vigorously attorneys from both sides of the case — plaintiff and defendants — attacked the credibility of every expert who testified.

In fact, attorneys worked so hard to destroy the credibility of the witnesses that the actual testimony seemed like an afterthought.

My friend Russ Florence also sat through each day of the hearing because his Tulsa-based public relations firm, Schnake Turnbo Frank, was working on behalf of the defendants. Today, Russ is President and CEO of Schnake Turnbo and is currently writing a book on the history of the firm, which includes a section on the trial.

Russ writes: “Like the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, each side tried to out-maneuver each — politically, legally, and publicly. They circled one another, trying to deliver a punch that would resonate …”

I was grateful when the hearing finally ended and I didn’t have to make a daily commute to Tulsa and back. Several months later Judge Frizzell denied the injunction request.

The actual trial over the pollution issue began the next year. I was no longer working at the paper, so someone else had the pleasure to cover it.

And now, almost 15 years later, we have our verdict. The poultry companies — 13 of them originally — are responsible for the poultry manure pollution of the Illinois Watershed.

“So much has happened since then,” Russ told me. “Some of the poultry companies have been acquired by others. Several of the key players have retired. And to think, I was single then, and am now married and have a fifth grader.”

And what of the punishment imposed on the responsible poultry companies?

“The parties are hereby directed to meet and attempt to reach an agreement with regard to remedies to be imposed in this action. In the event the parties are unable to reach an accord, the court shall enter judgment,” Judge Frizzell wrote in his ruling.

That’s it? It’s a ruling easily could have been imposed back in, say, 2009.

Seems like a joke that took way too long to get to the punchline.

An OKC Field of Dreams and ghosts of baseball past

fieldofdreams
A group of OKC adults turned the Northeast High School baseball field into their own ‘Field of Dreams’ for an afternoon

Moneyball is one of my favorite movies. It shows the impact that using computer statistics to drive player development had on Major League baseball and the Oakland Athletics in the early 2000s.

The movie features a host of memorable scenes, including one where Oakland outfielder David Justice asks new first baseman Scott Hatteberg what he feared most at the position.

Hatteberg had been a catcher all of his professional career, and to that point had never played even an inning at first base.

“A baseball hit in my general direction,” was Hatteberg’s honest reply to Justice’s question.

That’s exactly how I felt Sunday afternoon as I stood in right field at the Northeast High School baseball field.

I was there at the invitation of my friend, Russ Florence, who invited a group of fellow adults to “have a catch” with him.  A lifelong baseball fan, Russ began his informal monthly “catch” several months ago.

It was sort of a Field of Dreams-come-to-real-life opportunity for those of us who once played the game or have followed it all of our lives.

The baseball dreamers who came out Sunday included several guys my age or older, a few younger and a couple of women who showed more agility than most of their male counterparts.

I dug my old baseball glove out of the closet and joined about a dozen others at the Northeast field.

Unfortunately, the experience revealed exactly how the passage of time has robbed me of athletic ability, real or imagined.

Once upon a time, I thought of myself as a pretty good baseball player. Now that was in Little League in College Station, Texas, followed by Pony League as a 13- and 14-year-old.

Here’s how it went five decades later on a warm November afternoon beneath a bright blue sky.

First, we warmed up by playing catch with a partner about 40 feet away. I put most of my throws into the ground in front of him or several feet to his left.

My shoulder ached after about 15 minutes. My glove hand screamed with pain from catching baseballs in the heart of the mitt.

Then came the real embarrassment. I stood in right field as Russ hit flies and grounders to players stationed at infield and outfield positions.

He hit one in my general direction.

My feet felt like they were in quicksand as I “ran” toward it. I could not bend over far enough to even make a stabbing attempt at a catch.

I hung my head in shame. No one seemed to notice.

Russ hit about three other balls in my direction. I managed to catch one on the bounce barehanded, but caught none before they hit the ground. I decided if a ball wasn’t hit within three feet of where I was standing, I had no chance.

But the day wasn’t a total loss. I had the opportunity to visit with some old — and new — friends. The weather was pleasant watching from the dugout, where I spent much of my time.

“It really scratches an itch for a lot of people,” Russ told me afterward. “None of us is as good as as we once were — or as good as we THINK we once were. I’m glad you were there.”

Thank you, Russ, for inviting this ‘ghost’ of a former player to experience your OKC version of the Field of Dreams.

Even if it brought home a sobering reality of aging.