Take Me Out to the Ball Game

I come from a family of all girls. My mom was one of three daughters, her sister had two girls, and my mom joined the girl brigade with three daughters of her own. This past week my 15 year old sister, Brianna, joined me in the city for some much needed quality girl time. Now, before you start picturing us basking in a happy spa glow with brightly polished toenails and terry cloth robes, be aware that our visit included foul balls at the Mariners game, heavy Russian fast food, and a visit to the Viking Days Festival. Yes, you heard right… sports, food, and Vikings.

Ok, so I’m not exactly sports savvy, nor do I consider myself an athlete. My greatest sports achievement was kicking a soccer ball into the wrong goal in second grade, and my athletic abilities are pretty much limited to a haphazard game of badminton. Competition drives me crazy, and the pressure of any team sport is enough to evoke a full on panic attack. Put me on the other side of the fence however and suddenly I become that passionate, maniacal fan on the sidelines screaming obscenities, only I really don’t know why I’m riled up or who I am yelling at.

The Mariners were playing the Rangers on this sultry Saturday evening, and my sister and I were right alongside the action. In fact, our seats were the ones that come with those little warning labels to stay alert for incoming balls and bats. We watched as several fans were pelted with foul balls, and luckily for them, no one was seriously injured.

The gravest threat to our well-being wasn’t in the form of errant balls however, but rather it came delivered in little cardboard trays. Garlic fries…or as the fans fondly call them, Rally Fries. Fearing that I may likely become addicted to these heart attack inducing trays of goodness, I have yet to try a single garlic fry, and the odor reeking from those consuming them is reason enough to stay away. Cost is another factor. Why is everything so astronomically priced in a ball park? If I attended any more games than I already do (which would be two a season instead of one) I would have to sell a kidney to finance my food consumption at the stadium. Nevertheless, we splurged on lemonade to ward of the hunger pangs until after the game.

The thrill of watching a live sporting event will never grow old. The sounds of cheering fans, the smell of deep fried food, and the action of the game entice my senses and evoke excitement. In a way, it makes me feel like more of an American. I mean what really spells out America and patriotism better than gluttony, monetary wastefulness, and good old fashioned team rivalry?

Stay tuned for Russian eats and Viking Days!