You’re probably wondering why I’ve been so quiet with all that’s going on. The answer is I’m working and haven’t had time to do much of anything else.
Except, I did one thing last night that I highly recommend. I went to a baseball game.
I should say that I was a New York Yankee fan when I was a teenager. My late grandfather was a Cubs fan and we’d sometimes bond over those games. I remember sitting at the Robinsons’ house and watching Billy Buckner play for the Cubs. Outside of this, I really don’t know a lot about baseball. I don’t follow the sport. I only know the Cubs clinched because Brian told me so.
That said, I love and I mean LOVE, to go to the stadium and watch a game. The Brewers have never lost a game when I’ve been sitting in the stands. (And, yes, Brewer organization, I would accept season tickets if you’d like to send them to me). Baseball games are the absolute best. From that long walk in (at least at Miller Park) to the seventh inning stretch to the long walk out — I love it all! No where in the world do you ever become instant friends and family members with strangers as you do at a Baseball game. I’ve been to professional football games and it doesn’t happen there like it does at a Baseball game.
When you’re at a baseball game, you can yell anything and I have. When you’re at a baseball game, you really feel like you’re a part in what’s going on down there at home plate. When you’re at a game, you really believe they can hear you. You do the wave, you sing Take me out to the Ballgame, you eat a hot dog with stadium sauce and grilled onions, drink beer (or in my case, soda) and for those 9, 10 or more innings, everything is right with the world. We’re at peace, gas prices aren’t outrageous and the financial markets are secure. Your team gets a guy on second base and it all starts to come together. The bases are loaded, there’s two outs, Ryan Braun comes up to bat and you just know this is going to be good. When that ball goes up in the air, you hold your breath with everyone else and when it comes down in the stands — you scream with everyone else. Maybe, since you’ve never been in the stadium when a player hits a grand slam, you might just tear up a little.
And, the place erupts and the joy carries you to your car and all the way home.
And, life is good.