Tonight, my whole family attended the Nashville Sounds game and watched them beat the Portland Beavers (I know, I know) 6 to 2, according to the guitar-shaped scoreboard at Greer Stadium. I was glad to get out, since I've been sick since late Wednesday. I hadn't been to a Sounds game in years (decades?), and only went to this one because C had found, weeks out, a game that featured not only fireworks at the finale (which the kids loved on the 4th and again tonight) but also a cooperative thing with Marvel Comics, giving away a AAA baseball-themed comic. An ideal mix. So we went, we watched the game, we got the free comics, we ate the park food - giant hot dogs grilled right there, ice cream out of small helmets - and Max ran the bases with a horde of other 12 and unders at the end of the game after the nighttime incendiaries. It was, for the most part, a fun experience. Max had a total blast. Big crowds, game, junk food, running, comics, fireworks, crap to take home - what more could you ask for, really?
I miss the old Sounds logo, though. The one I grew up with. I mean, I know why they changed it - I would've, too. It was pretty goofy, even then. There were some park shortages at certain stands on things like hot dogs and ice cream, but we pulled through. Abby practically bathed herself in Gatorade and strawberry ice cream and dirt, a lovely combination. She also has a gift for finding things other people have inexplicably left behind beneath their bleacher seats: bottle caps, rusty screws, old straws, gross sticky items that might once have been gum. I really thought we might have to boil and scour her when we got home, but it turned out that a bath was sufficient.
We had one priceless moment: walking past a group of smokers, Max asks, "Is that what you do? You just suck the smoke out of the cigarette, and then blow it back out?" To which I responded, "Yeah, pretty much." And then I felt I had to go further, and pointing right at them said: "Max, look - these people here are smoking right next to the propane tanks, so they're exceptionally foolish." Behind us, as I was explaining to Max about the propane, I heard one indignant "HEY!" followed hard upon by a "We should probably move."
An excellent way to spend a late July Saturday night, all told.