Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack...

Ah, the Great American Institution of Baseball. My husband loves this game. He can't remember where we had dinner last week, but if you ask him who won the World Series in 1962, not only can he tell you which team won, but how many games it took, and what the score in the final game was. I learned to love this sport from him, and some our happiest moments have been sitting up behind home plate in a minor league ball park, eating hot dogs and drinking beer.

We finally made it to our local team's game yesterday for the Fourth of July. As you can see, they play in an older stadium, it's not new or fancy, but given that we're in Savannah, a new ball park would make much sense. That, and the Savannah Sand Gnats (a New York Mets affiliate) only play Single A ball.





Oh, quick aside for folks who don't know anything about minor league baseball:

AAA (Triple A) league is closest to playing in the majors. Guys who play AAA usually move up pretty quickly.

AA (Double A) is the next league down.

A (Single A) is the bottom rung, where the youngest players are, or ones who need more development.

Here are some of the guys doing warm-ups before the game.

Attendance, as usual, was a bit low, but it meant we got those much coveted seats directly behind home plate, just up a bit.

We weren't the only ones interested in those seats. In the section just in front of us, talent scouts were everywhere with their radar guns and video cameras checking out the pitching prospects. My husband explained to me that the major league trade deadline is nearing, and so the scouts and "player development" folks were out in droves to see who might make a good trade for a major league prospect. Or some extra equipment maybe. Okay, just kidding on that one.

Here my daughter is being attacked by a giant Sand Gnat, the mascot.

His name is Gnate, he took over for his brother Gnic a couple of years ago. And Gnate has his own MySpace page. He's a tad vain, so friend him.

I tried to get a picture of Frank the Beer Man, the guy who roams the seats and bleachers selling the brew, but every time I bought a beer I was too busy paying him to get out my camera. Frank is going to be leaving us after many years as the beer man for Grayson Stadium, because he's getting married, which I think is lovely. Frank is a retired Army Major, and he sells beer here and at Jacksonville Jaguar games in the fall (football team, AMERICAN football, mind you). He went back up north to his high school reunion, met his old high school sweet heart and fell in love. I think it's a great story, and there was much congratulations all around from us. There's a link to the story about it in our newspaper, here.

There was a young guy behind us who was very vocal, but he always tried to keep it clean because he knew The Four Year Old was there. There was an old guy sitting next to us who talked Ray's ear off, because he used to be in radio, too. There was a family sitting up a few seats over and behind us, and their son got into a horn blowing contest with TFYO. They were practically nose to nose, blowing these silly little party horns that the stadium staff were handing out to the kids.

The grown ups also got some really cool stuff, including a bag full of skin care products from a foreign dermatology company and single servings of microwaveable Hamburger Helper- Just Add Water, Dried Beef Included! I'll have to make some of it, and show all of you unfamiliar with the dreck Hamburger Helper is. But they are one of the team sponsors, so we get free Hamburger Helper.

Oh, yeah, and we won, 6-2. Not bad, considering we lost pretty much the first half of the season.