My son, Joe, has been a huge baseball fan for most of his life. Even moving to England hasn’t dimmed his enthusiasm for the game. Through the magic of the MLB app, he can view games from overseas, though he usually has to do it the next morning due to the time difference.
For a while now, his son James has been joining him to watch games and begging to play it. Although he also loves the games he participates in at school in England, football (we’d call it soccer), rugby, and field hockey, he also is a baseball fan.
He knows that a visit to America is a chance to indulge that interest. He can watch some Atlanta Braves games on television in real time. And there is the chance to see actual professional baseball, though minor league, in person.
The one thing James told us he wanted to do for his eighth birthday was to go to a baseball game. Our local minor league team was not playing at home on that day. But they were playing their just-down-the-highway rivals in nearby Winston-Salem, the next city west of us, so fulfilling his wish was still feasible.
We bought tickets to a game there between the Grasshoppers and the Winston-Salem Dash , and we got so much more than our moneys’ worth, in all sorts of good ways.
To start with, it turned out the Dash and the Grasshoppers were playing a double-header to make up for an earlier rain-out. Two seven-inning games for the price of one!
The Dash’s stadium is somewhat smaller than the Hoppers’ and a bit less imposing, but still well-laid and with a lot of nice features. When we arrived, there was almost no one there, although the first game was already in progress. I’d guess no more than a hundred or so fans were present. We got to park very near the stadium, a nice bonus on a hot day.
We had assigned seats, but at that point those seats were in the baking sun. Since there were a plethora of open places, we settled in shadier accommodations along the first base line. James brought his brand-new glove, hoping to snag a foul ball, though we kept telling him the chances weren’t all that great.
Within ten minutes a foul ball was hit in our direction and landed just a few rows away. James and his dad took off to chase it. Another man found it before they did, but respecting an unwritten rule of baseball fandom (If a child is chasing a foul ball and an adult gets to it first, it’s considered good form to give it to the kid), he tossed the ball to James. And he didn’t even know it was James’s birthday! James was ecstatic. His day had been made. We gave the generous man a round of applause.
With so few people there, the Dash’s mascot, Bolt, working the crowd, came over and did some fake indignation over the Grasshoppers tee shirts and hats the children wore. He still willingly posed for pictures and high-fived with them.
The Hoppers won the first game. The half hour between games was just enough time to have lunch. Though in general we think the Grasshoppers’ stadium provides a better (and considerably cheaper) overall experience, I have to admit that the food possibilities were better there. There were more different stands and a greater variety, though those included dubious offerings like a concoction of a chopped-up Krispy Kreme Doughnut, topped with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Not to mention the Heart Attack Hot Dog stand. No, I am totally not kidding.
We confined ourselves to more conventional hot dog and French fry offerings, but couldn’t resist the meals that came in a slightly too small batting helmets. James brought a couple of those home with him, too. And I have to admit, I thought their basic hot dog actually tasted better than the Hoppers’ version.
James with some of his game loot!
The second game was entertaining but didn’t go as well for the visiting team. The Hoppers lost that one, but the day’s bonuses weren’t finished. There were so few people that when it came time for the tee-shirt toss, Steph was easily able to catch one. It was really large, even on Freya, but she happily claimed it for a sleep tee, proud of the “Dash” logo on it.
A final bonus was the invitation for children to run the bases after the game. Of course, they had to be accompanied by an adult, and Joe seemed almost as eager as James and Freya for the opportunity.
A quick run from first base to home, high-fiving the Dash’s mascot at second and an oversized minion at third was the perfect way to top off a great experience.
It’s hot, hot, hot, here in central North Carolina. Daytime highs are in the upper eighties, often climbing over ninety. As is frequently the case, it’s also dry. Summer means occasional thunderstorms provide most of the rain. Until a couple of days ago, when we finally got some significant downpours, they haven’t happened here in the last couple of weeks.
I also now have a hole in the border along my back fence, where I’d transplanted some strawflower seedlings. The seedlings were coming along nicely until one morning in June when I went outside to look and discovered that every single plant had disappeared, gnawed all the way down to the ground by some hungry critter. There are plenty of suspects: rabbits, chipmunks, and moles are common. Unfortunately, a combination of being busy with some other projects, a minor injury that took me out of commission for a week or so, and dangerous heat levels have meant I haven’t really had the time or opportunity to get replacement plants. Such is the gardener’s life. Not everything will survive or thrive.
It’s been an up and down last couple of months on the writing front. With a beach trip and family visits, writing time has been limited and I’ve been distracted.
