O is for...

Two weeks ago I took my dad to the Orioles/White Sox game for his birthday. I wrote him a card, "O is for old, old school and Orioles!" See, the year Camden Yards opened I bought tickets for the two of us for his birthday. He later took me for my birthday. This tradition has gone back and forth for years.

So there we were years and years later driving up to Camden Yards. We parked in the new parking areas - thanks to Raven stadium occupying the once parking lot for Camden Yards - we walked the new walk, and sat in our seats at what is now considered the old-school Washington DC area baseball team. I dont know what's up with that.

Behind us sat a whole bunch of thirty something, or late twenty something, couples - the kind who kind of make me cringe. They were all sweet, clean-cut, the women wore jewelry, they never cussed. (This is a far cry from when I saw the O's/Yanks game earlier this season.)

My dad and I made the usual stops: beer, BBQ and a crabcake for me. I love Baltimore sometimes, really. Crabcakes at a ball game? Awesome!

We plopped into our seats, I propped my feet up on the chair in front of me and we looked out at the stadium in silence. That is, until I started to laugh.
"What?" my dad asked.
"I love this place! LOVE IT!" I said.
I think second to the beach, Camden Yards is the only place on earth where once I get there I just totally relax and feel at peace with the world.
"Um, Al," my dad said, "I haven't seen you this happy in a while..."

One couple that sat behind us was pretty cool. In eavesdropping on their conversation I got that the guy had been in Baltimore for a little while but never been to a game at Camden. He pointed out our BBQ to his girlfriend, as well as my crabcake.
"Where'd you get that?" he said, pointing to the BBQ.
"Over there, behind the bleacher seats," I said, "Boogs."
"And crabcakes at a baseball game, huh? This stadium is great."
"I know."
"Is it worth it?" he asked.
"The BBQ or the crabcakes?"
"Both."
"Well, I'm a vegetarian but I hear the BBQ is great. Definitely worth the walk over there. The crabcakes are pretty aight."
"It's a good spot to watch the game too," my dad chimed in, "Stand in line, grab a beer, order BBQ, maybe catch a ball..."
"This is such a beautiful stadium," he said, "have you seen a lot of games here?"
"I try to come as much as I can," I say, "This is the greatest place on earth. Forget Disney Land, Camden Yards is where it's at."

I finished my crabcake and we got a few more beers. The O's didn't get totally demolished at first so it wasn't that painful. The girl who sat in front of me had a poster for Raffy. The lineup included a couple original players from, well, back in the day we'll call it. Raffy, Surhoff...

It was a beautiful night out. We could see up Howard Street. The couples behind us chatted politely. They wondered if anyone used the warehouse. They wondered how old it was. They thought there was some time someone hit a ball out there. They thought. They weren't sure.

The dirt dudes ran out onto the field. An old couple sat a couple rows in front of us taking notes as the game went on. The beer guys had funny accents. The parking woman said hun to us. I looked out at third base where I remember hanging over the edge the night there was a two and a half hour rain delay when my dad took me to a game for my birthday. I was 15? 14? Who knows. The crowd cleared out that night, back when Camden Yards used to be jam packed. My dad stood with me waiting for the rain to stop because I didn't want to leave. They did the "guess the attendance" when the rain passed.
"50!" I'd yell.
"35!" my dad chimed in.
I leaned over the edge, got dirty looks from the 3rd base coach. "BRADYYYYYYYY!!!!!" I yelled and yelled until he finally looked over at me and I fell over laughing.

Now a few years past legal drinking age I sat way up high over home plate with my dad quietly watching the O's lose and the couples talk behind us.
"Have you ever seen a game at Memorial?" one guy asked to another.
"Years ago," the guy said. "Haven't seen one since."
"Ah, so you're an OG?"
"What?" replied the guy.
"An OG, an Original Gangster," said the first guy.
His friend laughed. "I guess... but that was years ago and I haven't been back since."

I smiled and took a sip of my beer. I told my dad about the time I saw the Nats play at Dodger stadium the week before Ieft Los Angeles. I told him how everyone says Dodger stadium is the most beautiful place ever. I told him how I remember sitting on the third baseline, nonplussed.
"Nothing compares, dad," I said, "This is the most beautiful place on earth."