America's Pastime: My Favorite Sport

I. Love. Baseball. A baseball stadium is my happy place. I love to get there early, when the gates open, and watch batting practice. I enjoy going to games with friends and family, but I spent at least a season going to games alone, and I enjoy the peace of watching the on-field strategy of the managers, of the pitchers on the mound, the batting order, when and when not to shift, when to pinch hit or pinch run, and so on, and so on. Hell, baseball is the reason I even like sports at all since it was the first sport to capture my heart and soul. 

My dad started to take me to games when I was really little. His trick to get me to love the game was that he never forced me to stay at a game. If I wanted to leave, we would get up from our seats, leave Oriole Park at Camden Yards, and walk back to the car that was parked in the garage past the clock tower. As a kid, it was a far walk, and once I wouldn’t wander into the street, my dad stopped carrying me back after I asked to leave a game. My dad waited for me to ask him what was going on in the game and never forced me to stay after I asked to go. A parental decision he since told me he regretted and bemoaned only once: the day I wanted to go home in the 8^th inning of a game where Mike Mussina, the pitcher for the Orioles, had a chance for a perfect game. He kept to his word and we left the stadium to go home, despite my dad deciding he would never forgive me for making him leave the game if he missed seeing a perfect game in person. We put the radio broadcast on in the car and, lucky for me, the bid was broken up on the last out in the top of the 9^th inning, by a single hit by Sandy Alomar of the Cleveland Indians. Maybe it was karma at work? That because my dad did the right thing by me, he wasn’t labeled as the guy who left the game in the 8^th inning of Mussina’s perfect game. I don’t remember all of the specifics of that game but my dad has it seared into his memories like it was yesterday.

Until recently, ever since I was 3 years old, he and I have only missed two Opening Days of Major League Baseball with my dad, no matter what city our family lived in. So, yea baseball means a lot to me and I truly love the game. Missing Opening Day 2019 was rough. It was the first time my dad and I didn’t go to Opening Day together. It was during my final year of law school and logistically, it just didn’t work out. Again, we missed it in 2020. Well, we didn’t really miss it, as the game has yet to happen. Better stated might be that we did have plans to go to see the Opening Day game hosted by the Baltimore Orioles at the beautiful Oriole Park at Camden Yards this year, just like when I was a little kid. But due to the global pandemic, that plan was postponed. Regardless of the reason we couldn’t go, I was supper bummed out both times.

In 2019, my dad refused to go to Fenway Park for Opening Day. I mean I don’t completely blame him. He hates all Boston sports with a fiery passion and its cold af in Boston when Opening Day rolls around. Years ago, we sat in our seats in Oriole Park at Camden Yards on an Opening Day where it legitimately snowed and a player lost the ball in the snow while trying to make a routine pop fly play. Since then my dad has been very adamant, especially after realizing how great a constant 72 degrees is at Tropicana Field, that he would not endure freezing temperatures at a baseball game again. The only exception being unless a World Series game in October. On my end, I just couldn’t figure out how to take the time off from school, my internship, etc. so that I could meet my dad at Tropicana Field, Oriole Park at Camden Yards, Petco Park, Dodger Stadium, or even Angel Stadium of Anaheim and its cool center field feature. 

This year, we were going to get back on track. We were going to go to one of the most beautiful parks in Major League Baseball, and for those who don’t know, the stadium that has served as the base model for a solid chunk of modern ballparks: Oriole Park at Camden Yards. I was so excited. I hated that I could no longer say to people, “I haven’t missed Opening Day with my dad since I was 3!” I figured that if we got back on track in 2020, I could still proudly say “I have only missed one Opening Day with my dad since I was 3!” When I realized we couldn’t go to Opening Day 2020, I was devastated. I wanted to spend time with my family and at that point, we didn’t really know the full extent of what was to come with Coronavirus. We all thought that maybe it would only be a slightly delayed start to the season and not the indefinite postponement we find ourselves in now, hoping it will end as soon as possible. Hoping for the ability to not just have baseball, but to have a safe environment for players, staff, and fans to enjoy America’s Pastime. 

Now back to my love of the game.

Throughout the years, many of my friends have told me baseball is boring. They say it’s slow and they don’t understand why, to me, a low scoring game with a good pitching matchup is more exciting than if everyone, from the leadoff man, the clean-up man, all the way down to the bottom of the lineup, is launching multiple RBI bombs. Now don’t get me wrong, that shit is exciting too! Especially, when it’s your team’s batters lighting up the starter and the bullpen. But there is nothing like it when you are watching a pitcher’s duel, and there is a chance for at least one of them to get the perfect game or the no no. Each at bat, each ball, each strike, each out, becomes just as thrilling as if it’s the bottom of the 9^th, men on the corners, two outs, and the home team is down by two. To me, the pitcher’s duel becomes: is this the at bat that ends a perfect game? Does he walk the guy and still have a chance for a no hitter? Or does this one at bat obliterate both, with a base hit down the middle? Maybe I think that way, and love it so much, because of that almost-perfect game by Mike Mussina when I was a kid. Clearly, at the time I did not understand how rare moments like that are and why my dad is awesome for leaving when I asked. Looking back, if the roles were reversed, I don’t know if I would be able to get up and leave.

Ticket prices vary by market. Regardless, I prefer to sit in the outfield. I can see the whole field and I don’t have to worry about the rules of etiquette that exist between the first base line, home plate, and the third base line. I have sat in that area of a ballpark several times over the years, and have even almost been hit in the head by several foul balls off of Chris Davis’ batt during an Orioles at Rays game when sitting behind the plate. I choose to sit in “the cheap seats” because I like that I can see the whole field, that I can track a fly ball, and that I can even tell from my seat, all the way out in the outfield, whether it be next to the ray tank at Tropicana Field or in the bleachers at Fenway, if the pitch is a ball or a strike.

I love all the traditions of baseball and baseball stadiums. I love the unique things all teams and stadiums have and how some are as quirky as the pitchers on the mound. In Boston it’s Sweet Caroline blasting in the middle of the 8^th; in Baltimore, it’s Country Boy right after Take Me Out to the Ballgame; in St. Petersburg, its fans mercilessly ringing cowbells. Now, the origin story of the cowbells goes back to when they would play the SNL clip of More Cowbell on the jumbotron, until NBC caught on and most likely sent a cease and desist. But, by that point, the cowbells had taken over at Rays games and were even given as game-night giveaways, and they even were once a prize option for winners of Tuesday Night Rays Bingo.

And man, I loved going to Tuesday night games because of Bingo! You could take a bingo card (or twelve) when you walked in the doors, and after each play was completed, you would mark off your card if you had the 6-4-3, F-8, E-5, HR, and so on. They even put the play up on one of the giant screens for the people who didn’t know the positions or how to keep track in a score book. For me, it was a fun way to keep track of the game and to hopefully win some prizes. I always thought it could be used a great learning tool for parents, who didn’t have the same sports knowledge as my dad, to teach their kids the game. Looking back, I was probably one of the only people to play, since Rays Bingo has been over for several years now. But I still have my Rays Bingo Winner prize t-shirts and cowbells to prove it existed. So, huge shout out to Kevin Youkilis for that sac-bunt, the one play I never thought was going to happen, that got me my first Bingo win.

I hope we get baseball back this year, but if we don’t, I can’t wait to go to Opening Day 2021 with my dad.✌