So it's root, root, root for the home team . . .

. . . if they don't win, it's a shame (what a shame).

And it wasn't a shame last night at Harbor Park
("one of the finest baseball facilities in existence" - quite the grandiose claim, huh),
home of the Norfolk Tides (formerly the Tidewater Tides),
the triple-A farm team of the Baltimore Orioles.



"Harbor Park was selected by Baseball America as the finest minor league facility in the land in 1995."



Oh really?!
Mymymy, I didn't know it was so impressive.
Something tells me this would be a surprise to many other citizens of this fine region too.

The Tides were the League champions in 1972, 1975, 1982, 1983 and 1985,
and played in the championship series in 4 other years - '71, '88, '88, and '95.

Wait . . . nothing since 1995. Whaaaaa?

The Tides were the farm team of the Mets for 37 years until 2006,
when someone likely got mad at someone else and got in a huff.
Or something.
Then the Orioles came on board in 2007.

Our boys of summer played the Gwinnett Braves last night.
5 points if you know where or what a Gwinnett is.

The sunset was totally gorgeous.


Auto setting


Night setting

BS's boss gave him a couple of free tickets to the game along with a bunch of co-workers,
and, bless my child's fat heart, since friend Tina couldn't come, he let me have his other ticket.
Our seats were waaaaaay out beyond 3rd base.



Now, baseball isn't my favorite sport to watch.
Pretty low scores, slow paced, and no one gets beat up or trampled on.
Bones don't crunch and the nice sight of a nice big package due to the presence of a cup
isn't appreciable from so far away in the stands.
Unless you have binoculars.
Which I didn't.

But there is something about being THERE, in the stands, among other fans, yelling & hooting & hollering
on a warm summer evening that transcends boredom into a collective joi-de-vivre that is contagious.



That, and hot dogs.

It just seems wrong somehow to go to a ball game and NOT eat a hot dog.
Ball parks have expanded their fine culinary offerings of late, but . . . no.
It has to be a hot dog.
Or a giant soft pretzel.
Or peanuts.
Or beer.

I chose the hot dog.
With thin chili & cheez whiz (which really didn't look green) & onions & a bit o' ketchup.
Is this not a thing of beauty?



I relished every bite.
They taste better in the open air.
Yuuuuuuuummmmmm.
It was good.

Ooh, ooh, and I got an action shot with the action setting on my camera.
Just look at that pitcher.



And look - we found a pair of cardboard rainbow glasses in the seat,
so doncha know I had to take some pictures through the plastic lens.



Coooooool.



Oh yeah, and we won: 3-2.

If your town has a baseball team, a football team, or any other kind of team,
get on out there and support hometown athletics.