Whew!
Month O' Birthdays is finally over! Not that I actually go for organizing big time shindigs for all those Geminis and Taureans (Taurusites?), but I seem to spend a lot of
mental energy on them. Especially the ones who are no longer around to celebrate. A long time ago, when we lived in San Francisco, we'd have big Gemini gatherings at our house, and they'd all get together and party. We're not so much into partying these days. Maybe it's old age, or maybe the passage of
yet another year doesn't seem like such a fun thing to commemorate.
With those lovely sentiments in mind, Caitie and Matt and I took Dave out to the ballgame to kick off the start of his (gulp!) sixth decade.
There were hot dogs to be had, beer to be drunk, and cheering and jeering to be done. I'm always amazed at how LOUD Caitie (a mere slip of a girl) can yell at ball games.
I love minor league baseball, mostly because it seems much less about high-end sponsors, and more about accessibility and small-town values. Although there is still plenty of advertising and practically a promotion-a-minute in an effort to keep the fans coming, it's definitely not the slick Jumbotron replays and gourmet foods in the concession stands of the big leagues. Nope. Round here, the only gourmet items on the menu are the local microbrews.
The entertainment between innings (because we MUST be entertained AT ALL TIMES) consists of fans being taken on a crazy wild ride across the field by our very own manic mascot, Lucky Beaver, or making fans circle around a bat till they're falling-down dizzy, then running the bases. My favorite, though, is when Lucky gets up on the dugout and dances to MC Hammer.
And of course, it goes without saying, that aside from watching the game itself, Triple A baseball is a fabulous People Watching Venue.
Like the guy right in front of us who kept asking every vendor how much the peanuts cost, maybe hoping one of them would give him a bag at below wholesale? His girlfriend got up at one point to get a beer and asked him if he wanted anything, "can I get you some peanuts, Hon?" I thought Caitie was gonna spray beer all over the back of his neck when she heard that.
Personally, I love to watch the little kids running down to the nearly empty box seats above the dugout at the end of each inning, hoping to catch a ball tossed their way. The players at this level don't often disappoint the fans. Except, maybe when they lose by 7 runs.
I'm pretty sure the birthday game was a hit.
