Baseball Fan vs. Baseball Wife

Sunday's game between the Orioles and Red Sox was a baseball fans' dream. It was a cool, sunny Florida day with a slight breeze from the northwest blowing out to center field. The stands were packed with 8,000 strong. Most of them were Red Sox fans. It was a close game and big name players like David Ortiz, Jacoby Ellsbury, Clay Buchholz, Daniel Bard, and J.D. Drew could be watched for a mere $11 a ticket. The fans were excited. The spirit was high. Good grief it was the Red Sox. Could life get any better?

It could for a baseball wife. I got there in the 6th inning. That may be considered late by the ardent baseball fan, but I didn't go to see the Red Sox. I went to see my husband play and if your husband is a late reliever and you have a three year old, the 6th inning is right on time.

The ticket windows were all closed. No tickets! The security man took pity on us and correctly surmised that I was a player's wife and let us in. "Just sit anywhere you can find a seat."
That would have been a grand idea if there weren't 8000 people crammed in the stadium going berserk over every Red Sox play.

We wound our way through the thronging masses and looked deploringly around for a place to sit. High up in the top row directly under the awning were a few lonely seats. With McKenzie in tow I plodded up the steep concrete steps dodging spilt beer, peanut shell explosions, the ketchupy remains of hamburgers and hot dogs and other non-descript disgustingness. At last we reached the top and plopped down in the dusty, blue seats. McKenzie started eating her pretzel, stopping every two minutes to brush the salt off the pretzel and then brush the salt off her seat. I don't know whether she ate more pretzel or more seat dust.

It was frigid up there. The wind was whipping in between the seats leaving goosebumps galore. I scanned the stadium for a spot in the sun. All the seats in the family section were taken and since I didn't have tickets I couldn't go politely evict two seat-squatters. Oh well. With joy, my eyes settled on a few seats on the Red Sox side of home plate that were bathed luxuriously in sunshine. Time to move.

Back down the stairs. Tip toe, tip toe. Back through the crowd. Stumble trip, stumble trip. Up the stairs. Into the row. Down in the seats. I am never going to a Red Sox game again!

So there we were in the sun. As soon as we sat down, McKenzie started to complain that it was hot. I gave her the water bottle. No sooner did I give it to her than she dropped the cap smack down among peanut shell, beer bottle soup. I took the bottle and held it on my lap and gave McKenzie her tracing activity book and a crayon to keep her still for a few minutes. She was happily working away when the man in front of us poked his wife/girlfriend/etc? directing her attention to McKenzie and said, "Look how interested in the game she is."

If I hadn't felt so miserable, beleaguered, lonely, stressed, and nauseous, I would have wanted to deck the guy. As it was, I just wanted to burst into tears and then give him a lecture on spending long hours at a baseball stadium with a three year old in tow and how little both of us cared about the game at that moment. Instead, the water bottle on my lap tipped over and dripped down the side of my pants and McKenzie started to wail and scream out of exhaustion and frustration. Time to move again.

Ready to throw in the towel but afraid I might miss Josh pitch, I hauled a kicking and screaming McKenzie down the first base line all the way to the outfield. There were two empty chairs in the wheelchair section. It was the 8th inning and there was no one sitting there. I plopped down exhausted. Thankfully no one said anything.

There was enough room for McKenzie to climb up and down and over and under the chair. By then, I didn't care how much dirt she ate. There was no beer or peanut shells, so it was kosher. I could see the bullpen and occasionally catch a glimpse of who was warming-up. By the 9th inning we were tied 3-3. Josh started to stretch and warm-up. Maybe all my suffering would count for something.

It was not to be. The Red Sox hit a home run in the top of the 9th amid wild cheers from the crowd. The O's didn't score again in the bottom of the inning, also a matter of great celebration in the stands.

Monday's game was much better. It was warm. There were less than 8000 people. We were playing the Twins and not the Red Sox. McKenzie was far more cheerful. Josh pitched the 7th inning and did great and I actually saw someone I knew and could talk to. Now that is my kind of game!

Josh coming in to pitch the 7th

McKenzie wearing Mom's lip gloss and posing for the camera...if only she would open her eyes.