Humble Beginnings. Part 1.

We all start somewhere...so let's get started

No matter the great passions in our lives, we all have that special moment somewhere way back in our memories, when you realize that this is when it all started. If you're lucky enough to have more than one passion in life, I consider you lucky. If you can turn one of those passions into your life’s work you are far more than lucky. That’s me!

Your moment of inspiration may have been when your teacher singled you out and complimented you in front of the classroom in second grade for your A+ on the math test or essay (certainly not me) and you said to yourself, that feel’s good, I like this and I’m good at it.

Maybe it was the first time you heard the voice of a great singer or piece of music that inspired you to explore every aspect of both and enjoy it for the rest of your life. Music wise for me, that was “Meet the Beatles” in 1964. I had no musical talent but pretended I was Ringo and drove my parents crazy banging on coffee cans in my room while singing along and wearing that record out! Decades later in the beauty of Berkeley’s Greek Theater when I heard Jerry Garcia play guitar at sunset for the first time I was blown away. Unfortunately I had no talent when it came to music but ended up being the most unlikely Grateful Dead Head. Those remain great memories but not the ones that define me.

The first of my two inspirational moments came in my first little league baseball game. I was playing shortstop and the bases were loaded, with out in the first inning, The batter hit a bullet right over my head, I jumped up and the ball snapped right in my glove like a lightning bolt that I will never forget! I caught it and ran to second base to double-off the runner and end the inning. Parents yelled, screamed and clapped their hands; the love of baseball and sports was forever cemented in my life.

The second and ultimately the most important one was in the great weather, hillside town of Greenbrae California, where my uncle Ralph lived. My family lived in Daly City just south of San Francisco, located on the cliffs above the great Pacific Ocean. DC was and still can be one of the foggiest and coldest places on earth, we called it the end of the world! Some of the time you could actually see the ocean. When my parents bought their brand new home in 1963, we invited our small family for a Christmas celebration. When they arrived they all needed a stiff drink as they told us that they could not see where they were going. They never visited in the evening again!

Some of my high school baseball games were actually fogged out as we could not see anybody. There was no bus service but also no crime. I ended up liking the place far more later in life when I realized it was a perfect place for wine storage.

Uncle Ralph was so cool, he was part French, he had 6 holes in one, and a big house with a pool with great weather in Marin county where we would happily spend all the holidays. Aunt Louise was one of the most beautiful and nice women I ever knew and she and Uncle Ralph had two lovely little girls, our nieces Lisa (9) and Leslie (7) and along with my brother Marty (11) ; we played hide and seek every time we gathered in their three level home. I was a few years older, they never found me.

I had found the perfect hiding place. it was his wine cellar. It was the size of a small closet, maybe 5 feet by 5 feet with racks on three sides full of single bottles with just enough room for a small chair in the middle; a string hanging down for the light and the best thing was that it locked from the inside. It was perfect! I loved the alone time and the fact they were so frustrated over many years of never finding me. In the cellar was a large stack of leather bound books, to kill the time I opened them up one by one. It seemed Uncle Ralph also loved fine food. Inside I found menus of 9 course dinners from different restaurants with a wine next to each course and pictures of incredible looking Chateaux’s. I had no clue about the wines or the food, all I could do was dream and wonder, what the heck did it look like inside the walls of these castles! It seems Uncle Ralph was a member of a group called the Bacchus Society that met a few times a year at a fine restaurant somewhere in the country. It all seemed very serious.

I thought, these bottles must be very special and expensive, and I better not break one, I could not stop myself and I very carefully pulled out a bottle. The wine was a 1961 Ch. La Lagune and that wine in that tiny little wine cellar would change my life.

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My journey thru the intersection of Wine and Sports continues next week. Cheers! Ralph