I had a dentist’s appointment tonight, and when I went into the room to sit in the chair, I heard the familiar saxophone line of Gerry Rafferty’s Baker Street. It’s as recognizable as any hook that’s ever been recorded, and I enjoyed hearing it again. But it also took me back to the last time I heard it, on a snowy day in early February of this year.
I had read that the new set of 2013 baseball cards was out, and since it was snowy and cold, I stopped at a place that sold them to remind myself of spring. And an observation I made led to a story that got published online and in print, and then it bounced all over cyberspace for 24 hours, and then it went away. But hearing the song reminded me of a connection that I initially made with Baker Street, and I wanted to share it here.
I made the point that baseball cards that refuse to acknowledge Pete Rose felt wrong to me. It seemed as if someone was trying to remove the saxophone solo from Baker Street. It wouldn’t be the same song that everyone recognizes the second they hear those notes. Baseball cards and Pete Rose went together for me back in 1978, and probably for thousands of other kids just like me.
So the Topps company decided to tell everyone that someone got 4,256 hits in his baseball career, but that someone must remain nameless. I thought it was dumb then, and I still think it’s dumb now. Pete Rose is as essential as the saxophone notes to Baker Street, as far as I’m concerned. And hearing that song will probably always remind me of this.