Opinion | Six rows up from first base. That was my dad Marty Starr’s Blue Jays home - Toronto Star

Marty Starr's 43 years as a season ticket holder took him from SkyDome's opening night to Joe Carter's Game 6 walk-off, Roy Halladay's 1989 one-hitter, José Bautista's bat flip and so much more.

Long-time Jays fan Martin Starr throws out the ceremonial first pitch in 2025 at the last regular season game.

Carol Starr is Martin Starr’s younger daughter and a life-long baseball fan. 

It’s the end of an era for my dad. After 43 seasons — from 1984 through 2026 — Martin Starr will no longer be a Blue Jays season-ticket holder. At the age of 95, going to baseball games has become too challenging, so it’s time to say goodbye to Rogers Centre (but not to the team).

My dad’s from a generation when men don’t tend to talk about or show their emotions, so I’m not sure how he’s feeling about this. I, on the other hand, cry during commercials, so I am already bracing myself for the sadness. The initial pangs will probably hit in December when our rituals for the next-season typically begin. We’ll no longer sit around his dining table, printouts of the schedule in hand, divvying up the games among our ticket-sharing group. The next ache will hit as April 2, 2027 nears — no more Home Openers at the ballpark together.

But it’s about much more than the Home Opener. It’s the loss of the foundation of our bond built over all of these decades that I mourn. The countless hours together at the games and in conversation. 

Marty Starr with Blue Jays mascot Ace.

I sat beside Marty for most of those games. We’ve experienced a ton of baseball together. There were the highest of highs as the Jays won their first American League (AL) East Division and played in their first American League Championship Series (ALCS) in 1985; the back-to-back World Series Championships in 1992 and 1993 and the years of near-misses that built toward them; the excitement in 2015 — 2016, and then last year’s incredible run, watching a team that played with such infectious joy as it exceeded all expectations.

We were at Game 6 jumping up and down when Joe Carter touched them all. We were there for the 1991 All-Star Game. We saw Roy Halladay’s one-hitter on the final day of the 1989 season that sparked such excitement for his future. We were at SkyDome opening night. We watched Jose Bautista’s bat flip, Dave Stewart’s no hitter (as an Athletic), the Springer Dinger and so much more. 

Blue Jays fan Marty Starr with Lloyd Moseby, who played centrefield for the Toronto Blue Jays from 1980 to 1989.

It certainly hasn’t been all glory. We also endured the cold and rain delays at Exhibition Stadium; Jim Sundberg’s windblown triple in Game 7 of the 1985 ALCS, the team’s collapse in the last week of 1987, and too many “rebuilding” years at the Dome when the stadium was mostly empty or filled with Yankees or Red Sox fans. But even in the lean years, when there was never a glimpse of a winning season, let alone a championship, we kept going because there was always baseball and our time together spent dissecting the game and kibitzing with the baseball community, who sat in or worked by our section. 

My dad loved his seats. (Before the Rogers Centre renovations and our move to over the Jays dugout.) Six rows up from first base, beside the camera area adjacent to the visitors’ dugout was his baseball home.

Sitting in Section 116L, Marty made friends with the TV cameramen, photographers, game staff, Ace, returning anthem singers and a few concession sellers. He brought wine gums to the games, and he’d slip the little packages to his favourite ballpark friends. In return, some gave him lineups and game stat sheets from the Jays media. He used his connections to get baseballs from the visitor’s dugout to give to unsuspecting kids sitting near us. The looks on those kids’ faces were priceless. People don’t often see that quiet, generous side of my dad but I got to see it every season. 

Martin Starr, now 95, threw the ceremonial first pitch before their final regular season game in 2025, giving the season-ticket holder of now 43 seasons the thrill of a lifetime. 

Last year, the Jays gave my dad the thrill of a lifetime when they invited him to throw out the ceremonial first pitch before their last regular season game. It was an unforgettable moment. The Jays clinched the American League East that day, leading to the most exciting month of playoff baseball. Like everyone else, we had hoped for another World Series Championship; instead, we savoured a magical season, one of the best we ever saw.  

As I wrote this, the Jays were in the hunt for the last AL Wild Card spot — an unexpected occurrence given how the first four months of the season played out. It’s been an exciting September, which is really all baseball fans can ask for. However, my dad won’t get the storybook ending to his tenure as a season-ticket holder.

Marty and Carol Starr at the ballpark. The T-shirts refer to player Justin Smoak.

Yet, reflecting on all of the years and all that baseball, I can’t help but feel how lucky we’ve been — to witness great, mediocre and even not-so-great baseball, and to share it with a community of like-minded fans. Mostly, I’m grateful to share a common passion with my dad that has bonded us over so many experiences, some just between us, and others shared with a ballpark full of strangers who felt like friends.

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Opinion articles are based on the author’s interpretations and judgments of facts, data and events. More details