Take me out to the ballgame

            I'm exasperated if it takes Google longer than 30 seconds to load.

            I'm tapping my foot impatiently if I'm in the slow line at the market.

            I completely blow a fuse when the driver at the front of the left-turn lane is asleep when the green arrow flashes and I have to sit through an extra light cycle.

            So I'm wondering why it is I love to watch baseball games, a sport that moves at its own pace.    Over the past two weeks, I've watched a baseball game at Minute Maid Park – where Nolan Ryan walked past me and I didn't realize it was the great pitcher until he'd rounded the corner – and in Sugar Land to watch the Skeeters play.

            In Houston, the Astros tickets were a lot more expensive, and we had to shell out money to park. Both had overpriced drinks and processed cheese nachos, but that 25-minute drive home in Fort Bend County was a lot easier than the 45-minute trek from downtown Houston.

            Both parks buzz with activity before the games. At Minute Maid, the outfield was meticulously groomed, and scores of workers raked the infield so that not a footprint was left.

            They did the same at Constellation Field although it was hard to keep the field immaculate with so many youngsters on the infield for pictures and awards.

            What's the same at both parks is that all fans want their home team to win. They know the  players' bios by heart, boo the umpire when there's a bad call and cheer like mad when a baseball soars into home-run territory.

            Both teams love the youngsters. The Skeeters organization honored a variety of youngsters before the game started. Fans were clapping and laughing good naturedly as star-struck 5-year-old Little Leaguers ran from first base over the pitcher's mound and then across the field to their moms.

            At the Astros game, people stood and applauded as a young cancer patient stood on the pitcher's mound, took his wind up and threw the ball to home plate. Catcher Jason Castro ran the ball back to the young boy and then signed it for him.

            I don't think there was a dry eye in the place when Castro gave that young boy a hug before heading back to the dugout.

            When it was time for the first pitch, excitement filled the air, even though the Astros aren't having that great of a season. That's because true fans never doubt their team will rally and put runs on the board. And the fans are what make both the Skeeters games and the Astros games so special.

            At Minute Maid, we chatted with Julie, a plain-clothed security guard in our section. She said she'd been coming to the ball park for over 10 years, and she never tired of the crack of the bat, the sounds of the crowd cheering when an Astros player smacked a ball out to the Crawford Boxes and of seeing the youngsters clutching their well-oiled mitts to their chests, hoping they'll catch a foul ball.

            They should never stop hoping because when we were at the Astros game, two twins, well into their 70s, were lucky and quick enough to catch a foul ball when it came their way.

            The smile on their face could've belonged to one of those 5-year olds running the bases at any baseball game in any stadium in the United States.

            So I'll still honk my horn in agitation at the daydreaming driver at the front of the left-turn lane but I'll sit back in my seat at the ball park and happily sing – "take me out to the ball game."

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.