To say I’m not a baseball fan doesn’t begin to describe my lack of interest in the game. To my mind, baseball is sort of like golf: even if I had four free hours on a Saturday afternoon, watching a baseball game is the last thing I’d do. Given my lack of interest, it should come as no surprise that I didn’t realize baseball season had started. Never mind all the shop windows festooned with orange and black balloons, or the traffic downtown, or the people walking around in SF Giants caps and jerseys–I was clueless. It took a conversation with the clerk at the Automobile Club yesterday before I figured out what was going on:
Me: So what’s with all the orange and black crepe paper?
Clerk: It’s opening weekend. The Giant’s play at two o’clock.
Me: The Giants? Are they football or baseball?
Clerk: Baseball. They won the World Series last year.
Me: Oh, right. I forgot about that.
Not only had I forgotten about the World Series, I’d also forgotten that W bought tickets for opening weekend. He mentioned it a couple weeks ago, but the news didn’t register . . .
I have a theory about me and sports. If I played a sport during some period of my life, I’m more likely to be interested in it now. Take tennis. I played as a kid. So even though I’m not up on the latest players and I haven’t hit a ball in years, I’ll sit down and watch a few minutes of Wimbledon or the US Open. Soccer and basketball on the other hand, are totally foreign to me. Didn’t play either as a kid, don’t understand the games now. For the last twelve years, I’ve been standing on the sidelines at soccer games and sitting in the bleachers watching my girls shoot hoops, and I still don’t know what “off-sides” or “screening” means. So baseball? Forget about it. The only way I’d know anything about baseball is if I had a son who played. And let me tell you, that’s not gonna happen . . .
But I try to be a good sport. So this afternoon, after my lovely walk in the park, I went to my first Giant’s game. It wasn’t so bad. Our seats were in the crow’s nest, but it was a nice day with just a little wind, and we had a lovely view of the bay.
I can see why people love baseball. There were moments of real poetry. And of course, there’s something gratifying about being in the stands with all those other fans who applaud their favorite players, and sing the songs, and cheer for couples who get caught on the “kiss-cam.” Am I itching to go to another Giant’s game? Not really. I’d still rather see a play, or go to a movie, or take a long drive. But if W comes home with more tickets, I’ll probably go. I’ll take one for the team.