They Must Be Giants

by Marinka on June 24, 2013

I forgot to tell you that my son and Mama are in California this week. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. It’s not my fault that the Blogging by Telepathy app hasn’t been perfected yet. Stop looking at me like that.

Mama took my daughter to San Francisco when she was 12, and my son immediately put the trip on the list of Things That Are Unfair Because I am the Younger Child and then, as soon as he realized that he was going to be 12, he brought it up to Mama. And then my daughter pointed out that she went to California a month before she turned 13 whereas her brother’s trip was going to take place one day after he turned 12 but by that point, the tickets had been bought and everyone was California Dreamin’.

And when I say the tickets had been bought, I mean the tickets to the Giants game, because what is the point of going to San Francisco if you don’t go to the baseball game? Exactly.

I was a little anxious about this outing because unlike Papa, who has been to one baseball game (at Yankee Stadium, where he turned to the person we were with and asked “Is this a team sport, or individual?”), Mama has never, not once in her life, been to a baseball game. And since NYC has two baseball teams, I am pretty sure that her lifelong abstinence was by choice and not due to a series of unfortunate events that had her appearing at CitiField only to learn that the Mets were, once again, away.

“I will be fine,” Mama said, mumbling something about how her grandmother survived the Siege of Leningrad for 900 days, so surely she could endure two hours of baseball.

I was unsure.

I called her after the game to check in.

“It was ok,” she said. “I spent my time well.”

“What did you do?” I wanted to know. This was, after all, as close as I was ever going to get to a first person account of a moon landing.

“I watched people and their nutrition habits,” she told me. “I think if no food at stadium, no one would go. They come for food. No one cares about the performance.”

“What performance?”

“Baseballing. The athletes are on the stage, but no one is paying attention, they are just eating a lot.”

“It’s called the field.”

“It’s called gluttony. And then after the first goal, there was cheering and someone yelled HOT DOG! and I thought that’s how you are supposed to cheer, but I was wrong.”

“I think that was just the hot dog salesman,” I explained.

“Yes, now I understand.”

And now I want a hot dog.

One year ago ...

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{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }

tracy@sellabitmum June 24, 2013 at 8:19 am

I always say “I love their costumes!” And my husband has to correct me with some stupid ‘uniform’ word. Whatever.


Awesome dude June 24, 2013 at 5:07 pm

When you arrive to a new country to dwell there peacefully you expect to have a few allergies to flora, fauna and may even to the members of the opposite sex.

In my case, the baseball is one of the biggest idiosyncrasies….

Few weeks ago I was going to swimming pool and the road crosses with the pedestrian path to the City Field baseball stadium.

It looked like a nut house was turned loose, not even mentioning the number of ugly tattooed species, the general appearance of the crowd was so moronic.

I hope that I did not offend anybody.


anna see June 24, 2013 at 8:10 pm

Awesome dude just offended my overly tattooed self. Just kidding. My experience w/ pro baseball is similar to Mama’s.


joeinvegas June 25, 2013 at 9:54 am

We saw a game in San Diego once, I don’t think anybody looked down at the grassy area unless there was a lot of noise, it seemed like one big party in the stands.


Liz @ PeaceLoveGuac
June 25, 2013 at 3:43 pm

That’s about how much I like the baseballing performances too.


June 25, 2013 at 6:04 pm

Never take Awesome Dude or Mama to a waterpark where gluttony and the ugly tattooed species are much more prevalent.


Tinne from Tantrums and Tomatoes June 26, 2013 at 3:39 pm

The Belgians have banned food from inside the soccer stadium after a few unfortunate events regarding hamburgers. Savour the gluttony.


dusty earth mother June 26, 2013 at 4:33 pm

“Is this a team sport, or individual” made me guffaw out loud. Oh, that Papa. He does not know from the baseballing.


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