Clearly, the action on Aloha Stadium’s Astroturf wasn’t holding the attention of this kid.

In those days, a styrofoam cup of S&S saimin and boiled peanuts were the main attractions of a family drive to Halawa for an Islanders game.

When my dad asked the second grader at his side to pick out a favorite player, I pointed to the closest guy in a baseball uniform, which at that moment was the third-base coach.

The point of this admission that I didn’t enter this world spouting batting averages and versed in the balk rule is to pinpoint the two weeks when everything changed.

Growing up in a sports-centric household, I can recall a vague awareness of the Yankees and Dodgers, Fernando Valenzeula and Derek Tatsuno. But the game didn’t really take hold until opening day of the 1982 season.

Atlanta-based WTBS was among the dozen or so channels available on the cable box, and the Braves’ game at San Diego happened to be on the tube (when that term actually reflected the technology of the time) right around dinner.

The baby-blue Braves’ win over the Padres, the Islanders’ parent club at the time, was followed by another, then another. By the time Easter vacation (before it was rebranded as spring break) rolled around, the afternoons were narrated by Skip Caray, Ernie Johnson Sr., and Pete van Wieren.

A diving snag by should-be-Hall of Famer Dale Murphy in center. A bomb off the bat of Bob Horner. A double play turned by Rafael Ramirez and Glenn Hubbard. Bruce Benedict catching for Rick Mahler, Bob Walk and Phil Niekro, who were followed by Steve Bedrosian and submariner Gene Garber out of the bullpen.

When Brett Butler dove across the plate with the game-winning run on Claudell Washington’s liner in the Braves’ 13th consecutive victory (long before “walk-off” had entered the lexicon) the energy reverberated from Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium to a living room in Nuuanu.

The streak would be matched by the Milwaukee Brewers in 1987 and again last week by the Tampa Bay Rays, which naturally rekindled memories of the spring and summer of ’82, which culminated with Atlanta winning the NL West (yes kids, NL West) in a tight race with the Dodgers.

Fandom for the franchise was admittedly interrupted by a dalliance with the mid-’80s Mets of Dwight Gooden, Darryl Strawberry and Sid Fernandez, but reignited with the emergence of the Tom Glavine and John Smoltz-led Braves of the early-’90s.

Appreciation for the game, however, has been unwavering since.

Sure, hot popcorn was still a treat as my dad held an umbrella in the aluminum bleachers in the University of Hawaii’s pre-Rainbow/Les Murakami Stadium era. But so was watching Glenn Braggs and Joey Meyer hammer drives into the Manoa Mist.

When we went back to Islanders games, I sat up when the introductions for Rick Lancellotti or Jim Pankovitz echoed through the stadium. When the Pirates took over as the Islanders’ parent club, Benny Distefano, Doug Frobel and the aforementioned Bob Walk soon became favorites.

(Not having a grasp of the concept of a farm system, or frankly caring about the Islanders’ place in it, I actually resented the the big league clubs for taking our good players and can recall a sense of disappointment when the Padres called up Tony Gwynn.)

Don Robbs’ calls — whether from Manoa, San Diego or Provo — and Les Keiter’s radio re-creations became the soundtrack of springs and summers to come.

I’m certainly not alone in my generation of local kids who developed an affinity for a team clear across the country through TBS’ availability in the islands and the power of cable television. So it was with a bit of nostalgia that I kept an eye on the Rays’ dominant run to open this season thanks to an MLB.tv subscription that now makes most games accessible (with the dubious exception of the West Coast markets thanks to MLB’s blackout rules).

Maybe a kid somewhere is a new Randy Arozarena devotee. Perhaps another decades from now will recall with fondness Brandon Lowe’s power surge or Manuel Margot’s bases-loaded bunt in win No. 13.

Baseball has a way of turning two weeks into a lifetime.