Sunday at the Ballpark

After expressing warmth towards baseball in this blog on May 12, and disaffectedness on July 6 -- not an unusual cycle for me, by the way -- I ventured to a Wisconsin Timber Rattlers game this afternoon and had a very nice time. Today was Team Owner Day at the field, with a photo of the players and shareholders taken before the game, and a picnic for everyone afterward. I didn't make it all the way through the game to stay for the picnic, but I did show up for the photograph. The game itself was reasonably involving, although I probably spent more time people-watching -- not a bad pastime on a sunny summer Sunday. Two burgers and three Scottish ales later (the Rattlers do nicely with the microbrew offerings!), I was ready to head home, but didn't regret going. Given my recent grumpiness about sports (which I don't rescind), I was glad to have had a diverting afternoon. For those of us who suffer acutely from depression, a few hours without negative thoughts are always in the nature of a bonus. The actual sporting content of sports, as I've written, no longer provides that refuge for me; the "third place" angle can, occasionally -- it can be good to get out and about.

I realized anew, though, that I can no longer stand sitting in the middle of a row of seats. An end seat is marginally more tolerable; better still a remote row with no one in it (such as I found on the first base side of the stadium today). It's not that I feel the call of nature so often; in fact, I have a very sturdy bladder. But I do have long legs, and I simply can't bear feeling cooped up. That sense of confinement almost ruined the Michael Buble concert I went to this spring, and has grated on me at the few symphony concerts I've been to in Green Bay and Appleton lately. I imagine that my growing distaste for that aspect of the (concert, play, sports)-going experience will impact me in perpetuity. I just don't want to sit still for long.