It’s hard to describe the feeling a father has taking his daughter to her first baseball game. To be honest, my oldest does not know enough about the game to care as much as I do, but I felt the time was right: it was an afternoon game during her “Easter/Passover break” from school, the weather was going to be warm and sunny, our team was doing really well, so it just seemed to make sense. She’s seen the stadium from a distance, because it’s near the Hall of Science, but this was her first time in a place that is for me a sacred space.
I tried to bring my brother and my father in for this event, but they could not make it. I would have taken my little one, too, but with only one adult and a large crowd expected, I made this another daddy-daughter date for me and my almost-six-year old.
Modern technology is remarkable, for now I can not only buy my tickets on-line, but print them at home, too. No mailing charges, no picking up tickets at the gate. While my girls went out to a breakfast date with my mother-in-law, I did the time-honored tradition of preparing sandwiches. Usually, of course, it was the women-folk – my mother, my grandmother, even my wife – who prepared potatoes-and-eggs, or sent us off with leftover chicken or veal cutlets on hero rolls, but since times have changed, and since my wife was working, and since I did not have enough time to cook, I slapped some jelly on some whole wheat bread, packed some apples and a back of cheesy popcorn (since my youngest is not ready to swallow popcorn and is lactose-intolerant we save such treats for events like this), and some water bottles, and headed off.
Traffic was light near the stadium, so we were early. I showed my daughter around the place, taking team history, miracles, disasters, foul balls that never came close enough. Our bags were checked, and tickets scanned, and we went up a bit to the loge section. Before I’d even got out to the seats, I’d bumped into a guy and knocked his pretzel to the ground, and he spilled some of his beer on me! It was going to be a long afternoon.
Because we were underneath a shady area and because it was a bit windier than expected, we were freezing. We got some hot chocolate and later I bought her an extra shirt to keep her warm, but this did not work out. Nevertheless, we were pretty excited. I bought a program and kept score, and tried to explain to her as much as I could about the game. It’s actually hard to do it nowadays because there’s always so much noise… the PA system constantly plays music or sound effects and it’s hard to keep a conversation going.
She’d had most of the cheesy popcorn on the way to the game, and when she saw the cotton candy vendors she got excited, but I made her eat something with protein in it – she chose the hot dog. We had to wait til around the eighth inning for a vendor to come around again with the sticky stuff, but she enjoyed it – and I used my water bottle to wash her face and hands.
After the game, we used the family restroom – she didn’t have to go, but it was a pleasure not to have to take her into a crowded men’s room at a sports stadium – and headed home, her napping in the back seat half the time as we sat in traffic much of the way. I’m not sure how much she’ll remember, though I do hope there are more such events to come. We did not catch any foul balls, but we did catch colds, I’m sure. Had we been in the sun, we’d have been fine – it was in the seventies – so we have to think about where to sit next time we go. In June or July that shade will be welcome.
We may have to re–think the whole no-cable-tv thing, if I really want her to get into the team and root as I once did. But we start slowly.
On the way home, she asked if there were ladies baseball teams, and it made me a little sad. I dreamed of playing at this stadium. Of course it never happened for me (it did happen for a kid I went to grade school with — he was with the team very briefly over ten years ago). But I was allowed the possibility. My daughter had to hear me say that there are no professional women’s baseball leagues, but since there is olympic baseball, she might get more excited about that. I do wish the sports world were less segregated by gender.
It was cold for us, I got beer spilled on me, and our team lost a heartbreaker. But I’ll remember the fun of my daughter sitting on my lap, and getting our picture taken and seeing it at the team web site after the game. No, I’m not paying 20 bucks for a 5 x 7. That’s silly. But I’m glad that I can click on it and see us, chilly but happy.