Now, I must confess I'm writing this a bit late. Chronic computer restarts and my Laziness have been the main things causing me to put it off. But getting back to the story,
There we were. Just arriving at The Oven, we were waiting for a friend to get there and get tickets so we could all sit in the same row. He got the tickets and we walked through the gates into The Oven, as the Biscuits were preheating...er, doing the pregame warm up(sorry, couldn't help the bad pun there). Okay, actually they had started before we walked in, but that's just a minor detail. Now I should point out that the main reason we were there was to heckle and support the biscuits. After all, what fan doesn't heckle at some point? We did(or at least I did) run into a dilemma. Because it was family faith night, we weren't sure how much we should heckle. We all agreed that we would heckle, but nothing bad or anti-family friendly. And thus it began. Sean Connery impressions, every random name we could think of that wasn't in The Mitchell Report, pointing out that the umpire was indeed short, and much much more. We clapped along with everything we could, even going 110%(or one measure after it ended) for all the songs. We even had kids in front of us clapping and commenting on the umpire's shortness by the third inning too. It was truly a family-ish event. Or so we thought.
The start of the seventh inning began as the previous had, with random yelling, clapping, and general festivities... ok, so pretty much just those first two. But not much later, this great game for the Biscuits turned Sourdough. Sorry I really couldn't help it. That was the last one I promise. One of the employees came over to us and asked to see our tickets. We wondered why, since even though we weren't in our seats, the closest people were three seats away and no one had come and claimed the seats. We cooperated with the employee Harry E*, and politely moved. But on the way, Jordan, my neighbor and resident Baseball Stadium Lawyer, asked the man why we had to move since no one actually wanted the seats, and when heckling no profane statements were made. We didn't even talk to the team like the Paula Abdul lady there, who I swear tried to distract our team on purpose... On top of all that, it wasn't even Harry's job to check tickets. I'm not blaming Harry E. for the event. He apologized, and after all he was just doing what the higher-ups had told him. It ruined the next 4 or 5 innings of the game after it though.
It left us walking around the stadium wanting to heckle, like a tribe hunting caribou for meat, pelts, and of course a creepy deer head to hang on a wall back at the tribe. We chose the back wall, and for a few innings it worked. Around that time we decided we were going to go sit back in the stands again, but at a different location. The location we chose ended up redeeming the night, thanks to the people there who thanked us for coming over, and occasionally joined in the pastimes enjoyed by those who aren't playing the "Great American Pastime"(aka singing, heckling, clapping, and dancing along to whatever song the play). We made it onto the big screen too, and if we had stayed in those seats any longer, I could venture to say we could have found the cure for the common cold. They say it's impossible, but then they haven't sat in those seats have they?
That's all for now. It was an interesting night to say the least, only redeemed by the older couple that thanked us and invited us to come back anytime we like as if it's their stadium. And with how great they were, they probably did own it. Sort of. Okay, not really, but they were still great. Tune in whenever I decide to WRITE another edition of Tales From The Oven. Or just read all the stuff on my blog. That'd be cool of you.
*Name was changed for sake of the person. Duh.
It left us walking around the stadium wanting to heckle, like a tribe hunting caribou for meat, pelts, and of course a creepy deer head to hang on a wall back at the tribe. We chose the back wall, and for a few innings it worked. Around that time we decided we were going to go sit back in the stands again, but at a different location. The location we chose ended up redeeming the night, thanks to the people there who thanked us for coming over, and occasionally joined in the pastimes enjoyed by those who aren't playing the "Great American Pastime"(aka singing, heckling, clapping, and dancing along to whatever song the play). We made it onto the big screen too, and if we had stayed in those seats any longer, I could venture to say we could have found the cure for the common cold. They say it's impossible, but then they haven't sat in those seats have they?
That's all for now. It was an interesting night to say the least, only redeemed by the older couple that thanked us and invited us to come back anytime we like as if it's their stadium. And with how great they were, they probably did own it. Sort of. Okay, not really, but they were still great. Tune in whenever I decide to WRITE another edition of Tales From The Oven. Or just read all the stuff on my blog. That'd be cool of you.
*Name was changed for sake of the person. Duh.
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