Jake's just now getting to the age where he's starting to understand what sports are, and what teams play what, and all of that fun stuff.
This year, next month in fact, he'll begin playing t-ball. So what better way to introduce him to the game than taking him to a ballgame.
Trace's boss gave her four box seat tickets (100 level, just off home plate down the first base line) to the White Sox - Tigers game on Wednesday night. The tickets came complete with a parking pass and admission to the Stadium Club bar/restaurant.
So after a somewhat abbreviated day for me at work, we hustled down to U.S. Cellular through intermittent rain showers. Luckily, as we're winding our way to the park, we heard on the radio that the start was being delayed 20 minutes due to the weather.
Jake was enthralled by the whole thing. Couldn't wait to get into the park, couldn't wait to find our seats, in his words, he was very "exciting!" He wasn't too thrilled with the fireworks and the loud music when the Sox took the field, but we soon got settled in to watch some of the game.
The picture doesn't show our chattering teeth, but the game time temp was around 45 and it dropped the whole game long. After the first inning or so we decided to head up to the (enclosed!) Stadium Club for dinner. It took awhile to find a seat, but before long we were sitting comfortably, surrounded by TVs, watching the game, talking and having dinner.
Nearly $50 later, we were done. Easily the most expensive baseball food I've ever had, but considering we weren't shivering, and we didn't have to pay for tickets or parking, we gladly paid for the heat.
After that, we went back to our seats to watch a bit more of the game, and at the 7th Inning Stretch, with the Sox losing 4-0 and showing no signs of life on offense, temps continuing to drop and considering it was a school night for the boys, we headed out.
Jake got a mini, silver wooden bat, to memorialize his first trip to a professional baseball game, and he fell asleep in the car on the way home, clutching it lightly in his hands.
It wasn't a sunny July day, it wasn't at Wrigley, and it wasn't a local team victory, but seeing him asleep in the car when we pulled into the garage, with the bat in his hands, I really couldn't have asked for more.
