friday night lights

baseball season is starting again and i am thrilled. i am one of the weird few who adore watching the game on tv, live, or via webcam. it doesn't matter how i watch it as long as i am given the chance to catch those diving-backhanded-sling-from-third-to-first-base plays. but the majority of my friends find this odd, and though i understand this to an extent, i cannot comprehend disliking a live baseball game. "we don't know the players," "there's nothing to watch in between pitches," and "i don't understand the game" are their excuses. they seemed legitimate, so i hit up a bruin home game to see whether or not i could prove them wrong.

it was the bottom of the fifth and the bruins led by 4. it wouldn't last, but how were we to know? ben and i scanned the field from behind home plate, wallowing in the luxurious ignorance of our team's future loss and letting the evening deteriorate into a melange of strikes and outs. whenever we'd stop talking, i'd realize the goosebumps creeping up my calves. i found them odd. the transition from day to night had come and gone without my noticing it. the day had bragged beach weather, but now- well after sunset- the solid cold bleacher seats dented the skin beneath my jeans.

an events coordinator needed one more child for a promotional race. i almost volunteered.

"wanna rock-paper-scissors for it?" the mini bruin behind us nudged his friend and they held one of those 5 second competitions that result in a decision that becomes law as a child. the winner marched down to third base to kick some wildcat butt in a short dizzybat race against a little univ. of ariz. munchkin. the prize? a whole pizza twice the size of the tiny laps it later rested on one row behind us.

somewhere in the sixth, our starter showed some lag. our outfielding saved us, and some bruin parents to our left decided to celebrate, led by an overzealous middle aged man with countless empty beer cans under his seat.

"give me a b!" (b!) "give me an r!" (r!) "give me a u!" (u!) "give me a..." a wrinkle formed across the leader's forehead as he turned to his friend with a confused stare. the entire section erupted in laughter, including the drunk man himself. "i want whatever he had," another parent commented.

the game went downhill from there, featuring several straight walks in the seventh followed by a grand slam. those last two innings were a little depressing, but we kept the faith, and ben convnced me to buy him dinner if he could call our play-by-play comeback. we lost, but we stuck around until the end and laughed as raindrops keep fallin' on my head serenaded an unexpected sprinkler show that drenched the wildcats' outfielders in the eighth.

ben and i were familiar with the players and their records and we understood the game, but, ironically, the focus of the evening was not necessarily baseball. knowing the players, the plays, and the game sure helps when it comes to enjoying america's favo(u)rite past time, but the fans are often just as entertaining as the teams. if any of you still have an anti-baseball argument you want heard, come see me. i'll rock-paper-scissors you for who is right.