Take me out

At five thirty Wednesday afternoon, as my office began to empty and grow quiet, I was contemplating the work I planned to do that evening. Another couple of hours, I thought, maybe three, before I’d go home.

“Anyone want baseball tickets for tonight? I got ‘em from a contractor. They’re good seats…” I turned to see one of my firm’s partners holding up a pair of tickets. K. continued, “It’s a beautiful night to go have a beer and watch a game.”

I wavered. I had so much work to do… but it was a gorgeous day, and we hadn’t yet been to a game this season. (We usually attend one game per season, and have always relied on the kindness of contractors or engineers for our tickets.) I asked, “What time does the game start?”

A few minutes after seven, Paul and I pushed through the turnstiles into Safeco Field. The seats were just beyond first base, in the third row. A sign posted at the aisle into our section read Please be alert for balls and bats leaving the playing field. I’d never seen that sign before. When we reached our seats, I noticed the same words on the back of each of the seats in front of us. I looked out onto the field. I could see individual blades of grass.

Other times we’ve been to Mariners’ games, we’ve had to walk up a couple of flights of stairs to reach our seats. Often, the players on the field have appeared no larger than they do on our television. In my experience, watching a ball game live has been much like watching the game on TV, but outside, with surround sound and the smell of beer.

Sitting in the third row at first base is, well, a different ball game. First base is a happening place, and we were close enough to hear the thwack of a ball thrown by a fielder hitting the first baseman’s glove, to see the concentration on the face of a runner rounding that base, headed for second. There’s a lot going on in the stands near first base, too. Popped-up fouls landed in the sections to either side of us. One hard drive just foul of the first base line came straight at us — straight at me, it seemed — but the ball hit the edge of the stadium wall, and bounced back onto the field. I was ready to duck behind Paul if that ball kept coming. I am such a girl. (Speaking of girls, the cute teenage ball girl sat right in front of us, and chatted with the young fans between batters. They were thrilled.)

Not only was it a perfect evening for a ball game, blue-skied and breezy, but the Mariners played a game worth watching. They batted well, stole a couple of bases, and made seven runs, including two home runs. (The second home run was along the first base line. I’ve never understood the roar that goes up from a crowd before a homer goes over the fence, but from where we were sitting, I could see the trajectory of that ball, and I knew that it was going into the stands before it was halfway there… and I yelled along with the rest of the crowd.) And the M’s pitcher threw a four-hit shut-out.

But the best part of the evening was not the game, nor even the perfect midsummer’s eve weather. The best part was spending a few hours away from work, away from the house, having an evening out with Paul. We haven’t had enough of those recently. I don’t see this smile on his face often enough. It’s time for that to change.