Batter On!

Tuesday night, I went to my very first Red Sox game. They were playing my home team, the Cleveland Indians. At first, there was a moment of nostalgia. Memories of Cleveland’s greatness in the 90s flashed before my eyes. They faced the Atlanta Braves in 1995. Lost. They faced the Seattle Mariners in 1997. Lost again. 15 years is a long time to make it to the World Series.



As I looked over the program guide, I tried to look for any familiar players’ names. I didn’t recognize a single one, except Grady Sizemore. I only know him because of his leaked camera phone pictures featuring him poising standing in front of a mirror, pecs ahoy with only a large white coffee mug to cover his bat. Apparently this year, Cleveland makes up the youngest players in major league baseball. Rookies, rookies everywhere, not a drop to spare!


I don’t remember much of what Jacob’s Field looks like (I was only 10 and I vaguely remember bringing a stack of X-Men comics to the game with me to pass the time), but memory aside, I don’t think it could hold a candle to Fenway. The name symbolizes tradition and greatness. And this is coming from someone who still doesn’t exactly understand when it’s a ball and when it’s a strike.


The whole experience was very ‘Woman of the Year’ with me in the role of Hepburn. Dazed and confused as I was, I still had a great time. Baseball, next to hockey or soccer, is one of the easiest games to follow. I still don’t know what the hell a third down or a fourth down is in terms of football.

My hat wasn’t nearly as big as Kate’s.

As nostalgic as I was to see the Indians, I had my Red Sox hat on. For me, it wasn’t as though I was betraying my home team. Rather, I was getting a new home team. Ya know, one that actually wins. And they did with a score of 3-1 against Cleveland.

Someone once told me that you can’t truly say you’re a true Bostonian until you’ve experienced Fenway. I may be a rookie, but at least I’m now in the game.