Letters of Love

Jason Michael Barker

In last week's The Dating Game, I outlined a few (hopefully) helpful tips and tricks for taking a date with you to your local stadium. If you didn't read it then, go ahead do so now -- we'll wait for you, honest. Go on, read it.

Still here? Great. Now that those late-comers are gone, we can get down to business. And business today means you, or at least those of you who took the time to e-mail me your thoughts on ballpark dating. First up is Daniel, who wrote in with the following:

Thanks for addressing an interesting dilemma. The boys in our rabid-Cardinal-fan family have all made fandom a requirement for lasting relationships, some with success, some not. The eldest was skillful enough to convert a Steve-Garvey-loving Dodgers fan into a Whiteyball fanatic (a few pennants didn't hurt); they're married now.

I was lucky enough that, just as a relationship I was in got serious, McGwire was rewriting the record books. The first Cards game I took her to was the record-setting 70th home-run game. We're getting married next June.

Congratulations are in order, Daniel, both on your upcoming marriage and your successful ballpark date. Have you thought about inviting Big Mac to the wedding? After all, it sounds like he played a big role in the whole thing, and I'll bet he gives pretty good gifts. A word of warning, though: Mark McGwire is a big guy, and I'm guessing he eats quite a bit. You might want to take this into consideration when planning the catering at the reception, and count him two or three times just to be safe.

McGwire, baseball, a wedding... I suppose some sort of "wedding night home run" joke is in order here, but we try to keep this a family site.

Next we have Brett, who writes in with his own tip:

Here's a good tip for ballgame dates. In order to avoid looking like a fool by cheering for your team incessantly, go to away games. One summer I visited my girlfriend in New York early in our relationship. It happened that the A's (big fan, I'm from the East Bay) were in town to play the Bronx Bombers. The year was 1998, the year the Yankees set a record for wins while the A's were happy to be in the middle of the pack.

To make a long story short I had a fantastic time watching the A's beat the Yanks in Yankee Stadium and avoided looking like a fool cuz hey, only an idiot cheers for the visiting team in the Bronx. Not to mention we are still together.

A good story all around, particularly the part about not cheering against the Yankees in Yankee Stadium. A friend of mine (Seattle-born Mariners fan now living in New York) went to the first two games of the Yankees-Mariners playoff series in 1995, and of course cheering for the M's was out of the question. He even said it was necessary to cheer for the Yanks a bit, since sitting there silent would seem a bit suspicious as well. One man, covered in Mariners gear from head to toe, had to be escorted out of the stadium "for his own safety" after taking quite a bit of abuse from the locals.

Getting back to your letter, it sounds like all worked out for the best. You got to see a game with your girlfriend, the A's beat the mighty Yankees, and the two of you are still together. And thanks for the tip about going to an away game, which is a good way to keep your own maniacal cheering under wraps.

While the first two letters featured ballpark dates with happy endings, this next one didn't turn out quite so rosy. Do tell, Alex:

This actually happened to me.

When I lived in Chicago in the mid-eighties I had an extra ticket to a Tigers-Sox game and couldn't get anyone to go with me. So I badgered a woman I knew slightly but hadn't been out with to go with me.

It was the day of Jack Morris' no-hitter. It was probably my fault for keeping to the tradition of not mentioning a no-hitter while it was going on. (As Yogi Berra once said, "I'm not superstitious; I just think it's unlucky.")

Just before the seventh inning stretch she turned to me and said, "Tell me why all the fans are so excited. The White Sox haven't done anything." At that point, with the full knowledge that if Morris lost the no-hitter it would be my fault, I explained what was going on.

I don't know if the fact that we never had another date could be ascribed to my being on my feet screaming the entire ninth inning, but I'm sure it didn't help.

Ouch! The way I see it, you had two choices here. You could have told her what was going on with the no-hitter and risk never seeing another one for the rest of your life, or not tell her and risk her thinking you were some sort of freak. I think you made the right choice, and of course Morris held on for the no-no, but it's just bad luck that things didn't work out with your date.

This story reminds me of a time I was at the Kingdome with a group of friends. Randy Johnson was on the hill, and of course there's always a chance he'll have no-hit stuff in any given start. Johnson was even better than that, however -- he took a perfect game into the fifth inning. Although we all knew what was going on, fortunately not a word had been uttered about it.

The wheels came off in the fifth when the Big Unit walked a batter. That's OK, though, right? The perfecto is gone, but the no-no lives on. Just then, one of the people in my group says "Hey, at least he's still got a no-hitter." Dirty looks and curses were heaped upon this poor fellow, and of course Johnson promptly gave up a basehit to the next batter.

Live and learn, I suppose.

about the author

Jason Michael Barker heard a rumor that nearly one-third of all marriage proposals take place during sporting events, and nearly half of those are broadcast over the big screen. Suggest it must be all the spitting and scratching that set the right mood at jmb@strikethree.com.