I grew up in the 1980s. I remember the 1984 World Series, I remember that Kirk Gibson was #MyTiger (until Alan Trammell unseated him), and I remember that 1986 was the year I fell head-over-heels in love with baseball as a sport and started paying attention to what was going on in other divisions, with other teams.
In 1987, I got my hands on a baseball almanac that listed the name and street address of every major league ballpark, and I promptly wrote letters (not emails, kids, actual pen-to-paper letters) to nearly every one of those ballparks, asking for autographs from whatever star player belonged to that organization.
I wrote to the Yankees and asked for Don Mattingly's autograph.
I wrote to the Royals and asked for George Brett's autograph.
I wrote several letters to the Tigers.
Ah, the naivete of youth. None of them sent me an autograph, although I was invited by the Yankees to join the Don Mattingly Fan Club, for a small price. I declined.
This was before the major stadiums sold their names to corporate sponsors, back when stadiums had names that were personal, names that meant something. I knew them all, back in those days.
Let's see how many you remember.
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