“Bring me some apples and crackerjack,” the young woman
bellowed tunelessly, swaying in time to the organist and slopping her beer just
a little bit. I’m not judging her for not knowing the lyrics to this standard American
anthem, “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” The funny part was that the words were
rolling across the gigantic screen, karaoke style, right in her line of vision.
Some simply sing the wrong words with abandon, carefree in their ignorance and
unaffected by perfectionists nearby. Good for her.
We were in the bleacher seats, directly behind center field.
From here, we could visit several concessions dedicated specifically to sausage
sandwiches, hamburgers, fried chicken and of course, the ubiquitous hot dogs
and French fries. No salad, tofu or sushi for these fans. Actually, you can
probably find these if you really want to. Cracker Jack now comes in bags,
making it just too easy to cheat and find the prize before you get to the
bottom. Prizes have also experienced an economic hit as paper jokes and games replace
earlier baseball cards, plastic rings and temporary tattoos. I never did like
Cracker Jack, but the prize inside drove me crazy, as did cereal boxes, in my
youth.
The only time I enjoy drinking a beer is at baseball games
and heat-of-the-day summer barbecues. So, despite the very chilly temperatures
of this particular game day, I enjoyed a cold one. For the price of this
lovely, plastic cup of nostalgia, I could have bought a case of high-end brand
bottles. Ah, no matter. This is a rare event.
Usually, I bypass the ever-popular ball park hot dog,
steaming and rubbery in its slightly stale bun, for a hockey puck hamburger. I
was surprised and delighted to find that the burger was very nicely cooked on a
fresh roll with lettuce, tomato and onion. The price of a single burger is $9
but that is not the most painful part of the story. The shocking addition
to the menu posted on the wall overhead is the calorie count for these
comestibles. Argh! Who needs to know that a single rocket burger has 710
calories? A double comes in at a whopping 1020 calories – more than half what I
should consume in a day. Sigh. Add that to the beer and glorious garlic fries
we enjoyed as an appetizer and technically I should not eat again until
sometime next June. Do we really need to know this? No. A baseball game is not
the time or place to worry about healthy food. I imagine there is not one
redeeming ingredient in the Cracker Jack, ice cream or cheeseburger spring
rolls either.
The bleacher seats are special in that they are populated mostly
by folks who have purchased some kind of season ticket. This way, you end up
sitting with the same people throughout the season and a familial camaraderie
develops. As we shivered together, sitting on metal planks, the group around us
shared stories, snarky observations about the Red Sox and leaped to their feet
in outraged unison when a ball over the left field wall only yielded a double.
While I really love going to a baseball game, I am not a
purist and was not above retreating to the warm, enclosed Mohegan Sun sports
bar during the 7th inning stretch. It was not so bad to watch the
Yanks close out their winning game with a hot coffee in my hands and my toes
thawing in my shoes. The bar has big screens covering all of the walls so you
don’t miss a moment of action. What you might miss, however, is catching that
long-shot hit to center field or having a little beer slopped on your jacket by
an exuberant neighbor in the stands.
