I'm not a sports person, so I really had no business covering the AABC Mickey Mantle World Series in McKinney a couple weeks ago.
They sent me anyway, as they needed a heat-related story for the coverage of the triple-digit heat streak (which was broken 1 day before it tied the all-time record. Boo that).
The following post is my acount of what happened when they sent a non-sports fan to the ballgame:
It was hot. My trusty hardware store thermometer read 106 in the shade when the 2 p.m. game started. I don't know about you, but the sun and I don't get along, I'm fair skinned and freckled, so SPF 50 was a necessity, and I sure hope the boys on the field had some.
As parents settled in for the long haul, and the rather cute boys running the PA system started introducing players and positions -of which I know nothing about-- I setttled in for the long haul too and tried to at least look informed. I think I probably failed at that, but the parents seated around me were nice enough to let me think I blended.
I didn't know then what you called the dirt part of the diamond (the infield, see, I know it now), but this poor guy ran out there at 1:30 and wet it down, he also wet down the circle where the pitcher stands (pitcher's mound, yeah, yeah..at least I know he's a pitcher), and the triangle-ish area where the batter/catcher/umpire stand (home plate?). By the time the first inning came to a close (at that point, I had no idea what actually makes an inning end), the infield (look at me with my new knowledge) was dry again. Clouds of red dust rose up from the scorched earth everytime a player...ran/took/stole/slid (?) into a base.
The parents, though they appeared to be melting, along with their other children who were red-faced from running in the now-107-degree-climate that was the bleachers (metal. with a metal overhang), were still finding the energy to shout and cheer for the boys in white (both teams wore white uniforms, this led to much Ananda confusion as it was sometimes hard to see if a jersey had the bigger logo of the Canadian team, or the smaller, two letter logo of the Indiana team).
By the time the second inning rolled to an end, I was totally confused as to which team was ahead 2-0, and couldn't figure out why the coach of the Canadian team was sometimes standing in front of the dugout of the Indiana team and vice versa (post-game theory: does it have something to do with which team is batting, and which team is pitching??)
As people left the stands for water and popsicles, I was wondering where the stereotypical hot dogs were, I guess it was too hot for them. The stands did have their fair share of peanut and sunflower shells littering them, guess popsicles were too childish for the fans of the previous game. Some of the parents were super-hi-tech and were keeping track of the teams stats and the pitcher's/batters speeds with one of those radar-gun things. It was pretty intense looking. But I was informed that at 16 years of age, as the boys in the tournament were, college scouts are already looking, as are some MLB scouts. (MLB =Major League Baseball, I knew this before I attended the game).
By the start of the impossibly-long third inning I had sort of figured out what the numbers on the score board meant, and I was about 90% sure the Canadian team was winning (based solely off fan cheers). In my defense, the teams' scores were labeled "Home" and "Visitor." As both teams were visiting, I just didn't get it. The third inning included such high-octane moments as the Canadian team's score going from 7 to 8-9-0 (the scoreboard doesn't go past nine) in about a minute (what do you call it when everyone makes it around the field like that, including the batter?) and the Indiana team getting annoyed enough at that to score their only two runs in the entire game.
The fourth and fifth innings came and went with no change in score, but as the fiftth inning ended, the Canadians cheered and the Indiana fans were slightly subdued. I couldn't figure out why at first. Then I realized there was some sort of mercy rule, and as the score was 10-2, the officials had ended the game at five innings. The players shook hands and the stands quickly emptied as people went in search of air-conditioning.
My thermometer spiked to 111 degrees walking back to the car (it was on the top of my open bag, which was hanging off my arm). It was hot. And that's an understatement. When I got to the parking lot I stripped off any piece of extraneous clothing I could (I had a shirt over a tank top, with shorts. I'd changed before leaving work because I had no desire to be a victim of heat stroke). Of course, the 40 minute drive back to the office with A/C on high the whole way helped out, as did the office itself: a balmy 70 degrees, I didn't bother to change out of the shorts/tank top combo, though I did add a second tank top so I didn't look so underdressed. It's the only day I haven't been cold at work. Though I was told I didn't look nearly as bad as they'd thought I would after being in the heat from 12-4:30 pm. (Goody for that?)
The story I wrote sounds like I'm aware of the game (thanks to an editor who does actually care a bit about the sport), and I'm more aware now than I was in the previous 22 years of my life. However, I think I either need to purchase a copy of "sportswriting/sports for dummies" or spend more time in sports bars asking cute guys what the rules of the game/s are!
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