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It was my first Tarp Skunks baseball game of the year - and it was their final game of the season. Timing has not always been my strong suit.
Saturday evening the Jamestown Tarp Skunks were playing the Geneva Red Wings at home in Jamestown's Diethrick Park. The Tarp Skunks are all summer-league college players. I lived here for years before I learned there was a semi-pro baseball team 22 miles up the road. Not reading the sports pages is another of my shortcomings.
Baseball is not Dear Richard's thing, and I have yet to find a fan among my friends. Determined, I drove to the game alone. As I parked the car and headed for the box office, the loudspeaker was playing "Santa Baby." Huh? Next came "Frosty the Snowman," then I remembered it was "Christmas in July" night. Tickets were $5, not the usual $14. An inflatable bat called a BamBam accompanied my ticket. I may have been the only fan who didn't blow mine up. Every kid was weaponized.
It was a lovely night - soft air, low humidity, happiness on the faces of every age. As I entered, an attendant with a barrel of used game balls was handing them out to just the eager kids. Curious, I stopped to ask a question, and he said, "Want one?" Surprised, but tickled, I said sure and popped one in my tote. My white hair and cane outfit gets 'em every time.
I sat with a friend, a diehard fan, behind home plate and took in the atmosphere. I knew fireworks were scheduled for the end of the game, so this was looking to be an entertaining evening. Santa Claus, a lime green Grinch with a Santa hat, and various Disney creatures were entertaining the BamBam swinging kids. Even the huge black skunk mascot wore a Santa hat.
Four friends from Warren arrived and sat behind me which guaranteed happy chatter throughout the game. My friend Lisa commented, "Can you imagine what it smells like inside that skunk suit?" OMG. I hadn't thought of it - and then I didn't want to!
When Lisa and Mike headed for concessions, they kindly offered to fetch my hot dog and drink ... probably the best dog around. Later, I bought some popcorn from the kid with the box yelling, "Peanuts, popcorn, cotton candy!"
At game time, the Skunks were cheered individually out of the dugout as they took the field. But my favorite game participant looked less than 4 feet high, and provided the greatest entertainment for my evening. The small bat boy was about six. His Tarp Skunks jersey, #49, hung to just above his knees, and his short legs were on the run the entire game. He raced for every bat, handed it off to the dugout, and fist-bumped or high-fived the coach, his dad, or whomever was standing near his watchful perch. And he managed to carry three game balls in his small hands to the ump throughout the game. He was fast and very conscientious. I was enchanted by him. What a great night it must have been for this little kid. After the 9-inning game, I'm sure he slept like a rock, dreaming of skunks juggling baseballs.
The music, the cheering, and the constant parade of excited little boys made for an evening of pure pleasure. The proud gentleman across the aisle from me was a baseball-loving Jamestown native. He brought to the game his son from Charlotte, North Carolina and his two grandsons, ages 5 and 3. The little guys, Dominic and Vinnie, safely had the run of the stadium, reporting back to grinning Grandpa all the excitement of their first baseball game.
The Red Wings scored first, retaining the lead for a few innings. But the Tarp Skunks displayed superior fielding and caught fire at the plate in the fourth, eventually winning 6-2.
As the Skunks headed for the dugout at the last out, the promised fireworks began immediately. Beautifully coordinated, the brilliant light show was spectacularly loud, constant, and fast, fast, fast. I was impressed.
Driving home still smiling, I couldn't help but think about why I grew up loving America's pastime. The evening was filled with families together - eating baseball food, watching light-hearted antics, and singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game."
The game itself was only one part of the experience. It was an old-fashioned night of comfort, enjoying American traditions that haven't changed much. And it's still OK to feel like a kid, despite white hair and a cane.
Back home, I showed Dear Richard my baseball. We're working to de-clutter, so he asked me what I was going to do with it. "I don't know," I grinned, "Maybe just keep it for my lifetime baseball memories."
Marcy O'Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com