FIELD OF DREAMS: WHAT WAS IT LIKE TO BE AT THE GAME? REMARKABLE

The roads to Busch Stadium were a sea of red. Hopeful fans in Mark McGwire shirts held up homemade signs: Need two tickets.

We had four tickets to the last game of the season -- purchased months before the home-run hysteria began. It has been a family tradition for many years to attend the last game. All paid ticket holders receive a coupon for a free game next year. Like buying Christmas presents early, the trick has always been to locate the coupons in the spring. Last year's coupons never resurfaced.

We had "nose-bleed" seats, but we didn't care. We had tickets to the hottest game of the year. We were decked out in our Mark McGwire "62" ball shirts, which now seemed sorely out-of-date. We were among a group of about 45 from Cape Girardeau.

Last games are typically pretty boring. It's been a long time since the Cardinals were in the playoffs.

This year was different. The air was electric. Even our 2-year-old chanted the name of Mark McGwire as we crowded into the stadium.

It was hot and humid -- out of character for the waning days of September. But fans didn't care. All they could think of was Big Mac. Could he do it? Was it possible? He had already pushed the envelope farther than anyone had before.

And he had hit three home runs in the past two days. But the hometown fans wished for the impossible. Sammy Sosa wasn't far behind, with a Monday wildcard playoff game giving him an extra day to hit in the regular season.

The game started a few minutes late. Big Mac was still signing autographs. He doesn't think kids should have to pay for an autograph. His "gee-whiz" attitude only endears him more to the fans.

A sign atop the Marriott Hotel told the story: 68 1/2. It was a jab at the at the Milwaukee game when a fan touched the ball and the umpire ruled it a double. The fans won't forget.

Everyone came to their feet as Mark McGwire came to the plate in the first. Even in the bright daylight, the flash bulbs seemed to create a strobe-light effect. Fans howled at the balls. Big Mac connected, but the ball stayed on the field. A hit. Not exactly what everyone hoped for, but the crowd cheered anyway. Heck, they cheered at the mere sight of the man standing at first base.

Everyone kept an eye on the scoreboard -- would Sammy homer again?

The game plodded along until Big Mac came to the plate again in the third inning. The fans practically leapt to their feet. The noise level was near-deafening.

And then -- as if in slow-motion -- McGwire connected. The ball shot like a bullet off his bat over the wall. As he trotted around the bases, the crowd hooted and hollered. My husband jumped up and down like a small boy -- yelling at the top of his lungs with sheer abandon. No one noticed. They were doing the same thing. Fireworks boomed in the sky.

Sixty-nine.

It was sheer magic.

The cheering didn't subside as Big Mac rounded the bags and waved to the crowd. He slipped inside the dugout, but the ovation grew even louder. Big Mac took a short curtain call. The fans wanted more.

We savored the moment and wanted it to last forever. The heat and humidity made us all light-headed. It seemed like the climax of a major motion picture in which we were lucky enough to be extras. It was like that moment in "The Natural" when the scoreboard exploded. Wow.

At that point the score was tied. The crowd began to wish for extra innings so Big Mac could bat more times. The impossible had just happened: 69 home runs, smashing the 61 mark to bits. The former record had stood an incredible 37 years.

Who could wish for more? All 50,000-plus fans at the stadium.

When McGwire came to the plate in the seventh, the stadium held its collective breath and then cheered its heart out. How could he concentrate? How could he even hear?

And then as a final thank you to the best baseball fans in the world, Mark McGwire went out with a bang -- No. 70. Unbelievable. ReMarkable. You fill in the blank. Any superlative will do. It was a three-run homer that would win the game and take its well-deserved place in the history books.

It was like a moment frozen in time. It was hard to drink in everything -- impossible to forget anything.

Even the opposing players gave McGwire high fives as he rounded the bases.

Shortly after, they took McGwire out of the game. Fans didn't seem to mind. The frenzy had reached its peak, and we weren't sure if could stand any more excitement.

Few people left at the end of the game. The standing-room only crowded waited around for the post-game ceremony and another look at the humble, red-haired giant and undisputed home-run king.

Even after the short ceremony, the crowd seemed to drag its feet as it left the stadium. No one wanted to let go of the moment, the magic or the memory.

As we left, people were buying ticket stubs for up to $20. Really? Suddenly, forgotten stubs were found and tucked safely away.

"Hey, folks. You're only selling the stubs, not the memory," encouraged the salesman. But the stub was part of that memory and few wanted to part with it.

Our kids may not understand that they witnessed history that sunny, hot Sunday afternoon. It may be 37 more years before the record is broken. Perhaps they'll attend that game with their kids. Hey, we can show them the ticket stubs to prove they were there.

Where were you when McGwire hit 70? We were lucky enough to be at The Game.

Joni Admas is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.