A Taste of Summer

To my mind, there's nothing that embodies summer like baseball. Tonight, Amy and I went to our first game of the summer. Granted, it was the Columbus Clippers, not my beloved Akron Aeros or the love of my baseball life, the Cleveland Indians, but it was baseball, and baseball is nearly always a good thing.

Now, there are some rules that go along with going to a professional baseball game. First, unless there is an illness or some major calamity, you stay until the end of the game. I'll be flexible for those of you with kids, but for adults not accompanied by children, you are obliged to stay, regardless of the score, regardless of the weather. Carl and I stayed at an Aeros game that was ultimately called by SNOW, and we did it gladly, BECAUSE THAT'S JUST WHAT YOU DO (and walked the 10 miles to and from the game, up hill, with nought on our feet but cardboard, and nought to warm us but the love of the game).

Second, it's OK to ask questions if you don't understand something. Perfectly acceptible. But, you should wait to ask between pitches, or preferably, between innings. Again, kids are an exception, but you should try to teach them this very important rule (says the guy without kids).

Third, baseball means eating a hot dog. Unless you're a vegetarian or have some sort of allergy, there is absolutely no excuse for not eating a hot dog. Just man up and do it! Yeah, it's going to be way overpriced, but that's one of the things you have to accept for love of the game. And, there's a right way to dress up your dog, too. Unwrap said dog, and smother it in stadium (or ballpark, if that's what you got) mustard. None of that sissy yellow stuff! By time you quit adding mustard, there should be equal parts (by weight) mustard and dog. On top of the mustard, if it's available, go the onions. Cram on as many as the dog can hold, and then add more. If you do it right, everyone within a 100' radius should be gasping for breath, and you should have horrible indigestion by the middle of the second inning.

Fourth, fer cryin' out loud, one or two beers is OK, but for the love of all that is good and right, the baseball stadium is not a kegger. Stop drinking after the third inning or second beer, whichever comes first. The beer really isn't all that good, anyway.

That's it. Now go out and enjoy our national pasttime!