Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Biscuit is crying in the bathtub right now. He's just miserable, wailing for his baseball and baseball bat and baseball hat.

Jeff, Biscuit and I went to a minor league baseball game tonight, thanks to some generous friends who weren't using their season tickets.

We had a couple of stops to make before we got to the ballpark. And at each stop, Biscuit said, "Noooow, we at baseball game?" Once we finally got there, we walked through the gate, Biscuit saw the players warming up on the field and yelled, "There's the baseball people! There's the baseball game!"

We got to the ballpark about 20 minutes before the game started, so we stopped off at a table to have an early dinner. You're not supposed to take food into the park, but they never say anything when I take a peanut butter sandwich and some crackers in for Biscuit. There aren't a lot of choices of food for a kid his age. Maybe next year.

When the time came for the national anthem, I helped Biscuit stand up in his chair, I pulled off his hat and told him we had to be quiet during the song. There was a color guard, so I pointed them out and told him to look at the flag while the group was singing. When the anthem was over, Biscuit saw the color guard going off the field and said, "They march, Mom. They march."

I like teaching Biscuit new things but especially when it's something meaningful, like taking his hat off and showing respect for the national anthem.

Jeff has to cover baseball for work. He wasn't working tonight, but he said if they had a particularly good or bad night, he might need to get a couple of quotes from the coaches or the manager and maybe the owner after the game. But even when he isn't working, Jeff has a hard time enjoying a game like a regular fan. He still has an objective eye on both teams. I think that's because he never knows if he might have to write a story about what happens.

But Jeff is crazy about baseball. He knows so much about the sport and about the teams who play it. Sometimes it amazes me the information that comes out of his mouth. Tonight, in the fifth inning, this guy came up to bat, and Jeff said, "This guy is due for a home run. It's about time."

I asked him how he knew, and he said, "Well, this is his third at-bat, so he's faced this pitcher twice in this game. Plus, the pitcher got called on a balk on the batter before this one. That means the pitcher is frustrated, so he's not concentrating, which means he'll probably throw a straight fastball. And the guy at bat, he's a great fastball hitter."

Just as soon as Jeff stopped talking, the batter smacked the ball out of the park. I looked at him, and he had this cocky grin on his face. "Told ya," he said.

I'd love for Biscuit to enjoy watching baseball. I'd love it even more if he wanted to play. And I would love it even more than that if he played and was good at it. Jeff is the kind of person and dad who would be supportive but not pushy or overbearing if Biscuit was on a team. Even when his favorite pro team loses, he'll say something like, "They should've played better." And that's it. No pouting. No sulking. No temper tantrums.

Our team won tonight, 7-3. There were some home runs and good defensive plays. Biscuit had plenty to keep him occupied and interested.

After the game, Jeff decided he did need to head down to talk to some people. Biscuit and I walked down the stairs with him, but we stopped short of where Jeff was going.

Below the stands, they have a batting cage with fake grass and buckets of balls and nets. Biscuit was fascinated by the grass inside the house. And the buckets of balls. And then he saw the team dogs - Babe Ruth and Yogi Berra. And then a guy named Spazz stopped by. Spazz is sort of like the court jester of the games. He runs the silly games between innings. He dances on top of the dugouts. He's quite an entertainer. He runs around a lot during the games, so I know he was tired when he walked by us. But even so, he stopped, squatted down to Biscuit's level and talked to him for a few minutes.

He asked Biscuit his name. Then he asked him how old he is. Biscuit answered him, then Spazz looked at me like he was impressed and said, "Is he really only 2? He speaks like a 5-year-old." I smiled and nodded my head.

"Are you going to enter the Scripps-Howard Spelling Bee next year?" Spazz asked. Biscuit just smiled and said, "Yeah." Spazz asked who Biscuit's favorite baseball team is, so I leaned down and whispered "Hoppers" in his ear. "Hoppers," Biscuit whispered (if you whisper to him, he whispers back). Spazz asked for a high-five, Biscuit obliged, then just looked up at me and just grinned.

A couple of the off-duty pitchers walked by us and spoke to Biscuit and complimented him on his team hat. The team owner came back by with his two dogs, and Biscuit got to pet them and talk to them.

Everybody who came by was just really nice to us, especially Biscuit. I guess it surprised me because you think that at the end of their day, they would all just want to go home to bed. But each person who came by took the time to speak or make some kind of fuss over Biscuit.

We had a really, really nice night. There was nothing especially unusual about it. We just had a good time together. And our team won. It was a good night at the ballpark.