Take Me Out to the Ball Game

October is one of my favorite months of the year. Fall leaves turn orange and red, and drop from mountain trees. Elk are in the rut, and their bellowing bugle echoes through the forest. Hot summer air transforms into a crisp autumn breeze. And finally, televisions are turned on to watch a batter come to the plate, tap the base with his bat, then test his skill against a ball blazing at ninety-five miles an hour.

Yes, October is World Series time, and I will admit that now days, it is the only time I watch a ballgame. I used to be an avid Braves fan, coming home from school each day to watch Atlanta play on TBS. I rarely missed a game.

Things are different now.  Family and responsibility force baseball lower on the totem pole of priorities. Plus, we no longer have TBS.

Yet my love and nostalgia for the game haven't diminished over the years. This year, the Kansas City Royals are playing the San Francisco Giants in the World Series. As I write, game seven is tonight. Winner takes all.

I can't help but recall that I watched Kansas City play earlier this year. The game was in May and it was at The Big A in Anaheim against the Angels. I brought the whole family. Not only was it their first time watching a Major League ballgame in person, but it was mine also. I was as excited as a little kid!

We left our motel an hour and a half early, just to be on the safe side, and arrived at Angel Stadium twenty minutes later. Men with batons waved us to our parking stalls within the gigantic lot that surrounded the stadium. We felt a little out of place without our Angels shirts and caps.

We found our seats behind the right field foul line and up a deck. There didn't appear to be a bad seat in the house. At this time, the stadium was mostly empty. Fans trickled in little by little. I wandered back downstairs to field level and perused the gift shops. An Angels dog feeder was very adorable, but not worth the money. I looked at the caps and jerseys, very tempted to buy, but not willing to break out the wallet.

Meandering the hall again, I found a memorabilia display that fascinated me. Photos of famous players, their signatures emblazoned across the front, adorned the wall.  Behind a glass were baseballs signed by Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, and Ted Williams.  I was reminded of the great players of this game, many who played in this very stadium.

I returned to my family in the stands. We were all very excited and just like children in a candy shop. We enjoyed watching the “Kiss-cam” on the Jumbo-tron. A camera crew covertly filmed unsuspecting couples in the stands, then expected them to smack a big one with everyone watching.

Field crews worked on preparing the white lines in the dirt. Girls circled the field with blow guns that shot souvenirs into the stands. Little by little, players drifted to the field to stretch their legs and warm up their arms. Before I knew it, a lady was singing the National Anthem at home plate, and fireworks fired off near the center field fence. It was time to play ball!

I admit that I had to do a little research to find out who was on the team, as I am out of the loop now days. I found three names that I recognized: Mike Trout, Chris Iannetta, and Albert Pujols. The latter of the three, Pujols, is probably the biggest name, and a future Hall of Famer. His career is full of many accomplishments. Currently he is twenty-first on the list of all-time home run leaders with 520 dingers.

My daughter, Kaitlyn, brought her mitt. We waited the entire game, but didn't get a foul ball to come anywhere near us.

With baseball being America's national pastime, we couldn't let the game pass by without buying some of America's greatest food. We spent $41 on four hotdogs and six drinks. That included two souvenir cups that we needed to bring home to prove we had been to the game. Jenelle desperately needed to spend $12 on the Nacho Daddy, a huge serving of nachos inside a plastic Angels helmet.

The game was very enjoyable to witness. Mike Trout hit an RBI double over third base, Albert Pujols was hit by a pitch, Chris Iannetta blasted a home run over the left field fence, and Howie Kendrick was hit by a ball on his way to first base. I was very impressed at the sharpness of the crowd. When there was a controversial play at home plate, they were the first to let the umpires know about it. Likewise, after two impressive diving catches, the crowd was on their feet with loud ovations.

I anticipated the seventh inning stretch. As a boy, I remember Harry Carey leading the song to Chicago Cubs fans, but I had never participated in the tradition myself. The time came, and everyone stood up and sung in unison. I am big on tradition and culture, and few things can match true American tradition more than standing at a Major League ball game and singing: “Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd, just buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks . . .”

What took me completely off-guard was when we also sung, “God Bless America.” We took off our caps and watched the waving flag beyond the outfield.

Kaitlyn and I decided to take a stroll around the stadium. Behind the stands in right field you can see the 230 foot tall “Big A” sign next to the freeway. Beyond center field there is a large sign with Albert Pujols' picture and the number 505 across the front. They change the number every time he smacks a round tripper. We watched the game for a few minutes from the outfield perspective, hoping that a home run would soon be blasted over the wall. It never happened.

At last, it was the top of the ninth inning and the Angels were up 4-3. There were two outs and a runner on third base. The crowd came to their feet, chanting, “Let's go Angels, let's go! Let's go Angels, let's go!” - That is is except the two Royals fans that sat in front of us. They inserted "Royals" instead of "Angels," but no one could hear them. Everyone watched the batter in anticipation as he popped the ball to second base. Angels win! Fireworks blasted into the air from the center field fence along with two plumes of fire.   Almost everyone was on their feet, clapping and hollering - except for those Royal fans in front of us. They sheepishly stood up and walked away, leaving their Angel cups on the floor for the taking. 

I guess those two Royals fans got the last laugh. Now I am at home watching the World Series on television, knowing that Kansas City beat the Angels in the playoffs to get there. That's alright. I can root for the Royals now. Or I can just sit back and enjoy the game, wishing I were there, or else imagining I were there: the crowd on their feet, the smell of pop corn and hot dogs, and the sound of the ball on the wooden bat.