We did just that last Sunday.
The boys grabbed their gloves, my youngest slipped on his favorite sweatband, and we headed to Victory Field to see the Indianapolis Indians. Not without hearing ‘When are we gonna be there’ a good twenty times, and ‘I hope I catch a foul ball’ at least ten other. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about a sunny day, baseball, and a hot dog. As I watched the action on the field, I made some observations of other things…
An elderly woman to my left filing her nails and occasionally glancing up at the scoreboard.
Bags of cotton candy should be served with handi-wipes.
Cameras showing four lucky winners on the jumbo screen being upgraded to the Coors Lights seats…drinking Bud Light.
If you put your purse at your feet, you will take home a purse full of peanut shells.
My 4-year-old responding to repeated ‘Cold Beer, Cold Beer’ chants from the vendor…‘We don’t want any cold beer!‘
That same son commenting on seeing baseball fans sprawled on blankets in the lawn section: ‘Oh, I see. That’s where people go when they wanna take a nap.‘
The guy who blasts t-shirts into the crowd might wanna avoid standing in front of the net behind home plate. Makes them hard to catch.
The elderly lady to my right taking swigs from a beer bottle and stealing a smooch from her husband.
My youngest licking blue cotton candy from his fingers and saying, ‘Ahhh yes, that’s good stuff.’
The couple behind me saying three weeks from now they will be married. By the way, she plans to get her hair braided on her honeymoon.
Section 109 isn’t close enough to the restrooms. And too close to the concession stand. Which causes us to need a restroom.
And finally, when I told Greg that we may have parked a little too far from the field, my oldest stating, ‘It’s no big deal. We could all use the exercise.’