For graduation,
we treated Clare and her boyfriend to the White Sox game yesterday. She thought the seats were good, and the girl
has always loved a fireworks’ show, which the team does on Saturday
nights. As for the scoreboard message
that said, Welcome #7 Clare Bukowski Elmhurst College Softball All-time Homerun
Hitter, well, that was priceless, as they used to say on the commercial.
I wasn’t too
cranky at the end of the game, given that the Sox coughed up a late-inning lead
to lose to the Twins, 8-6. But $8.25 for
a beer? How long till they start
loansharking money to pay for the concessions?
I mean, for the fans who can’t get to the ATMs around the park.
I don’t drink,
but I still end up with a headache from games.
It’s the pulsing lights and the noise and the lights. Call me old school, but if you’re going to
pump up the crowd with AC/DC, why stop there?
A human sacrifice at the mound is the next logical step. And the perky interns who toss t-shirts into
the stands between innings—I hate it.
Can’t we just
play ball and post a few heartfelt messages on the scoreboard?
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