A Pro-Game for the Non-Fan

He answered, "Absolutely nothing. The way I see it there are 22 people on the field desperately in need of a rest, and ten thousand in the stands desperately in need of exercise."

That is how I viewed games. I wanted to play, not just watch someone else play.

Then someone suggested we go to a Mariners game. Why not?

We met near the stadium and he drove me into the city.

I love Seattle. It is a beautiful city rising up out of the green trees and mountains, nestled next to the waters of the Puget Sound, with interesting shapes carved into the landscape out of concrete and glass.

One of those interesting buildings is the Safeco Field, home of the Mariners.

August 27^th, The Seattle Mariners vrs. The Minnesota Twins.

As we walked into the stadium the sheer size of the dome, the seating and the mass of people captivated me from the first moment. The multitude of items on display and for sale, especially the miniature bats, and the fresh lemonade with half slices of lemons in the cup, were nearly overwhelming.

There is an excitement in the air as each player comes to bat, and it grows as the bases fill, then falls again as the next batter strikes out.

Another expectant air rose every time Ichiro Suzuki came to the plate, and even I, the neophyte, could see that he was the favorite for the team.

I will be honest; I don't remember the game very much. I do, however, remember the people. The woman dancing in the stands as they showed her on the jumbo-tron. The man up in another section waiving his shirt around. A couple walking past us holding hands. A little boy holding up the fowl ball he caught.

The fans make pro sports fascinating. They wait with baited breath as each man comes to the plate, anticipating the swing, and cheering in excitement with every hit. They dance, scream, and leap up in a wave that travels around the stadium twenty times before finally fading out.

The Mariners lost that game, 3 to 6.

As everyone left en masse I was introduced to another aspect of pro sport games.

Venders stood on the side of the street selling everything from souvenirs, and hot dogs, to coffee and novelty items. People walked in groups across roads, ignoring traffic. Friends laughed and joked as they walked into downtown Seattle, filling up bars, pizza joints, and restaurants.

The game hadn't quite ended. Not yet. Not as long as people still roamed the streets and venders still hawked their goods.

The beauty of a pro game is the community spirit that lasts long after the game ends, and perhaps we take it home with us when we are watching it in the comfort of our own home, or the local sports bar.

As for me, I won't soon forget how much I enjoyed my very first baseball game, and perhaps it won't be the last either.