It’s a typical early summer evening in San Diego. A good night for baseball. About 65 degrees F with a cool breeze off of the salty bay. The air smells of rich barbecue, sweet cotton candy and crisp freshly mowed grass. Music, laughter, applause, conversations and cheers of “Swing Batter Batter” echo through the stands. My nose and finger tips tingle with the cool breeze, my body warm with the soft Padres sweatshirt. There is a dramatic changing light as the sun sets behind left field. It fills the senses full to content.
I’m at home here in Petco Park. A place I never dreamt I’d love. Stats I never thought I’d understand. A sport that was once foreign to me. What did attending my first ever baseball game back in 1997 teach me? Never doubt something until you’ve tried it.