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It was perfect.
This was Saint Patrick’s Day, a beautiful Friday of sunshine and cool breeze, and my friend and I already had enjoyed an Irish breakfast of eggs, sausage, thick bacon, tomatoes – and of course, an Irish coffee.
But from there, we were off to catch Spring Training at Fort Lauderdale Stadium. This is the pre-season home of the Baltimore Orioles, as it has been now for 11 years. They were playing the Washington Nationals and we were eager for a day away from work, just sipping the grass-scented air and savoring the crack of wood against reinforced leather.
You don’t have to be a baseball fan to enjoy Spring Training, though I am. (A lifelong Detroit Tigers fan, and believe me, it takes real courage to admit that these days!) My friend is no huge sports nut or baseball enthusiast but she loved the afternoon as much as I did. There’s an energy to the players, who can dream about winning a World Series ring. And the fans sit so close to the game’s action that we can hear the pop of the ball landing in a mitt. Spring Training is one of the great bonuses of being in South Florida at this time of year.
This day’s game turned out to be what fans call a laugher. The Orioles were pounding every pitcher the Nationals put out there, banging away with line drives and sacrifice flies and basically just putting the Washington team to shame. But that gave people at the stadium lots to cheer for because most of us went there to pull for Baltimore anyway. Hey, it’s the home team, at least until Opening Day and the games count for real.
So most of us are root, root, rooting for the home team and the Orioles are rounding the bases and guys in the outfield for the Nationals are watching balls go through their legs and this thing is getting funny. There was a large crowd, and it was obvious that a fair number of locals were mixed in among tourists and fans from up north who had come to watch their teams. My friend and I weren’t the only two playing hooky from work this Paddy’s Day, apparently.
Fans are yelling and the ground crews are smoothing out the infield dirt and the uniforms look new and spotless and fathers are explaining the game to their sons and daughters and it just couldn’t get any better than this. Behind us, I heard one impatient boy of about 7 maybe, and after the second inning he told Dad he’d had about enough baseball for the day, thank you. “Can we go home now?” he asked. To which Dad replied, gently but without hesitation, “Now? You’ve gotta be kidding! When you see the number 9 flash on the scoreboard for the inning, then we can go.” And the father added the real reason he wanted to stay for the duration of this lopsided game. “Daddy’s in heaven!” he said.
Weren’t we all?
This was Saint Patrick’s Day, a beautiful Friday of sunshine and cool breeze, and my friend and I already had enjoyed an Irish breakfast of eggs, sausage, thick bacon, tomatoes – and of course, an Irish coffee.
But from there, we were off to catch Spring Training at Fort Lauderdale Stadium. This is the pre-season home of the Baltimore Orioles, as it has been now for 11 years. They were playing the Washington Nationals and we were eager for a day away from work, just sipping the grass-scented air and savoring the crack of wood against reinforced leather.
You don’t have to be a baseball fan to enjoy Spring Training, though I am. (A lifelong Detroit Tigers fan, and believe me, it takes real courage to admit that these days!) My friend is no huge sports nut or baseball enthusiast but she loved the afternoon as much as I did. There’s an energy to the players, who can dream about winning a World Series ring. And the fans sit so close to the game’s action that we can hear the pop of the ball landing in a mitt. Spring Training is one of the great bonuses of being in South Florida at this time of year.
This day’s game turned out to be what fans call a laugher. The Orioles were pounding every pitcher the Nationals put out there, banging away with line drives and sacrifice flies and basically just putting the Washington team to shame. But that gave people at the stadium lots to cheer for because most of us went there to pull for Baltimore anyway. Hey, it’s the home team, at least until Opening Day and the games count for real.
So most of us are root, root, rooting for the home team and the Orioles are rounding the bases and guys in the outfield for the Nationals are watching balls go through their legs and this thing is getting funny. There was a large crowd, and it was obvious that a fair number of locals were mixed in among tourists and fans from up north who had come to watch their teams. My friend and I weren’t the only two playing hooky from work this Paddy’s Day, apparently.
Fans are yelling and the ground crews are smoothing out the infield dirt and the uniforms look new and spotless and fathers are explaining the game to their sons and daughters and it just couldn’t get any better than this. Behind us, I heard one impatient boy of about 7 maybe, and after the second inning he told Dad he’d had about enough baseball for the day, thank you. “Can we go home now?” he asked. To which Dad replied, gently but without hesitation, “Now? You’ve gotta be kidding! When you see the number 9 flash on the scoreboard for the inning, then we can go.” And the father added the real reason he wanted to stay for the duration of this lopsided game. “Daddy’s in heaven!” he said.
Weren’t we all?
posted by LauderBLOGGER at 4:15 PM
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