Ticket stubs from the Phillies’ summer of 1964 keep a father’s memory alive

On the corner of my dresser is a word-a-day calendar that helps me keep track of 2022. Just a few inches away are some irreplaceable souvenirs that take me back nearly 60 years to the last summer I spent with my dad.

They are four ticket stubs from the six games, including two doubleheaders, we attended at Connie Mack Stadium between June and August 1964. My father and I shared the same first name and a love of baseball that he instilled in me from our informal games of catch to the first game we attended together — a 3-2 Phillies win over the Giants on July 13, 1962.

Starting with the four games we attended in 1963, my dad began a tradition of keeping the stubs and jotting down the final score on the back with the occasional highlight. On the stub of the July 16, 1963, doubleheader against the Dodgers, he noted that Sandy Koufax took a no-hitter into the sixth inning of the first game.

In 1964, the Phillies established themselves as pennant contenders. While Beatlemania swept the nation, Philliesmania reigned in our Westville, N.J., home. Prints of the Phillies drawn by Philadelphia Bulletin artist Jim Ponter were pinned to my bedroom bulletin board. I pored over “Clay Dalrymple’s Baseball Tips,” a 16-page booklet by the Phillies catcher that my parents ordered from Bond Bread, as I tried to improve my sandlot skills.

After seeing the Phillies lose, 4-2, to the Giants on June 6, I was disappointed, but the season soon turned magical. My dad and I watched Jim Bunning throw a perfect game against the Mets on a black-and-white Zenith TV in our living room on what would be our final Father’s Day together.

For our next game, on July 13, my dad purchased tickets three rows behind home plate and we saw the Phils outlast Warren Spahn and the Milwaukee Braves, 3-2. The biggest thrill for me, though, came before the first pitch. Several Braves were playing a game of pepper and my dad alertly snagged a ball inadvertently hit into the stands by Gary Kolb, a utility player for the Braves, and gave it to me. To an 8-year-old, the grass-stained and scuffed ball felt like a Christmas in July present.

As a child of the Depression who tracked his income and expenses in a notebook, my father kept an eye out for a bargain. He worked as a lab technician at the DuPont plant in Pennsville, N.J. He scrutinized the schedule and selected doubleheaders on Aug. 5 (Colt .45s) and Aug. 20 (Pirates) for us to attend, purchasing $2.25 upper reserved tickets for both dates.

For twin bills, we altered our ballpark routine, bringing sandwiches my mom had made, Tastykakes, and a Thermos jug of either Hawaiian Punch or lemonade. The food and the Phillies were a hit as they swept both doubleheaders with some ninth-inning drama. Richie Allen hit a walk-off homer to complete the sweep against Houston, while Frank Thomas hit a two-run, walk-off homer in the opener against Pittsburgh.

After the Aug. 20 sweep, the Phillies had a 7½-game lead over the Reds and Giants. What could go wrong?

Plenty, as it turns out. The summertime magic came crashing down in a cruel autumn. The infamous 10-game losing streak of late September quashed our hopes of seeing a World Series game in Philadelphia. Undeterred, my dad kept his faith in the Phillies in 1965 and bought tickets for the May 7 game against the Cardinals. Bob Gibson was overpowering, holding the Phillies to a Johnny Callison single in a 2-0 shutout.

That would be our final game together as my dad died of a heart attack on May 26, two weeks before his 42nd birthday.

Fifty-seven years after his death, the ticket stubs help keep alive the memory of a special season I got to share with my dad.

They also serve as a reminder that life can never be exactly like we want it to be, to quote songwriter Lowman Pauling.

Tom Wilk, a former Inquirer sports copy editor, is the co-author with Jim Waltzer of “Tales of South Jersey: Profiles and Personalities.”