But first there was a rain delay at the Salt Lake Bees game last night. Like the good Boy Scout she is, Suzanne is always prepared. Here we are under her frog umbrella, during the rain delay before the bigly game. Baseball Bow Tie o’ the 4th was also glad we took a blanket to the ballpark.
I think pro baseball games run too long, unless you’re playing in one. And I never have. Of course, I can’t say that to anyone I’m related to because baseball has been good to a boatload of people in my family. Baseball has put a bunch of my family members through college, and one of my nephews spent a decade playing pro baseball. And yet… half-way through a pro baseball game, it is downright painful to me to watch the field. Crickets, I tell ya. Painful crickets!
I like the experience of the stadium. I like watching the spectators. I don’t mind paying $5 for a naked hot dog. I like watching the game’s dozen plays where something actually happens on the field. I can appreciate baseball’s complexities, skills, and strategies: they just don’t speak to me. Well, I guess they do speak to me. They say things like, “Only seven more OUT’s and we can go home!” Inevitably, I end up cheering for even my own team to accrue 3 OUT’s ASAP, so the game will pass more quickly.
Here’s how last night went: We played the game of finding a safe parking space by the stadium. The baseball game’s starting time was delayed almost an hour, cuz of rain. The game started, and then played and played and played and played and played. Between innings, people who were dressed up as produce ran a race (the ear of corn won); two women batted water balloons (they tied); kids stood on the bases as some kind of reward for something; a kid ran a race against himself; and other such things of interest occurred. The Bees won. We watched the stupendous fireworks from our stadium seats. (They weren’t as exciting as Delta’s fireworks, but nothing can be.) Then we made our way through alleys and vacant lots to find Suzanne’s car, which had made it safely through its sketchy parking space evening. And then it took us home to rescue Skitter from her crate. She seemed unfazed by any fireworks she might have heard in our absence.
Over all, we had a rip-roarin’ good time. We can have a blast anywhere. Why did I attend an event which doesn’t thrill me? First, Suzanne asked if I wanted to go. I do not say NO to Suzanne. And second, I sometimes like to re-try things I’ve decided aren’t for me, so I can know if I’ve changed my mind about not liking them. Last night I learned that although baseball changes (WTHeck is an OPS?), and although I change, neither of us has yet changed in ways that make us enjoy each other. Maybe next year.