TAKE ME OUT TO THE FOOD STANDS...

I love baseball.

Even more so, I love my friend Hong for hooking me up with a ticket to last night's Padres stadium. For over a year now, I have been excitedly twiddling my thumbs, watching cranes swing back and forth over the distant patch of green you can see if you lean right and hang precariously over my balcony. The time had come for closer exploration, and so Jon, Gene (the Artist Currently Known as Dave's Son), Hong and I made our way down Cortez Hill to become one with America's favorite pasttime.

I got really into baseball last year during the pennant races. I am a sucker for the underdog (read: the Cubs). I went into work early in order to be home for 5pm tee-offs... um, I mean...kickoffs? I've never been super into team sports (except kickball. Why, oh why, are you not an Olympic game?), but there's something to the pace of baseball that does in fact suck me in. The amount of food involved in attending a baseball game is merely bonus, I assure you.

So, we lived the luxury life. Our suite came complete with what I like to call "my own personal assistant" - Jean - who assured me that she was there for anything we needed, ie. if we wanted to order food into the box, etc. As you may already know, I've had my manicure this week, so I simply thanked her for the offer and did what I could to slide gracefully by the seat of a woman 14 months pregnant.

We won. I am still trying to decide if that made the difference in my experience. I suppose if we'd had a closer game (8-3. Is that even a GAME?), I would have had to watch the game a little closer. But this way, I could zoom out and drink in my tax dollars. The stadium is on a prime piece of property. You really have to will yourself to stay in your seat and not wander the 1001 restaurants and bars and head up to the back deck with the view of the bay, the bridge, and Coronado island. I think they should sell seats to just sit up there.

From the ballpark, all of a sudden San Diego felt like a 'real city'. I mean, I had never seen so many people, for one thing. The population of San Diego had reached its peak point for me when I happened through Persian festivities at Mission Bay, population 5000. The energy of a crowd of that many people (1 million?) watching one game, focusing on one little baseball, was fantastic. And when the Dodgers hit a ball past the outfield fence and a minute later it plopped back onto the field, we were not just neighbors, we were family.

As we were leaving, employees had been stationed to wish you a good evening, thank you for coming to Petco Park, and to request that you drive home safely now, you hear? With a love like that, who wouldn't love this game?