Just a day at the park

I have to admit something.

As much as I am excited that the Cubs are mired in a pennant race, and their prospects for making the postseason are as good as anyones, when it really boils down, I don't find that to be baseball bliss.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the pennant races and the drama. Every pitch counts. Games creep into the wee hours of the night. Forty-two thousand people screaming, teetering on the edge of their seats. It's what baseball is all about, right?

Hold that thought.

I was watching the last part of the White Sox-Royals game on WGN-TV this afternoon. Yes, yes...I hear you laughing. The two worst teams in the American League Central division. The White Sox and the Royals. Anyway, I was just watching as intently as I would a Cubs or Tigers game.

You see, I like to pay attention to the situations, see great pitching, observe timely hitting and great defense. Afterall, this is still a Major League game, only between two teams playing out the string of a lost season.

I also noticed one other thing. The crowd wasn't deafening at all. In fact, I could hear individual whistling, catcalls, laughing, cheering and clapping. This was certainly not Dodger Stadium with 45,000 fans roaring after Kirk Gibson launched his epic blast into the Chavez Ravine evening. No. In this case there might have been 12,000 people at the game. No surprise there.

But, I was reminded of my favorite type of game to watch in person. You see, over the years, as a true baseball student, one that first played the game for fifteen years and since is now just a father, a coach and a fan, I have learned a lot from baseball. Lessons on attitude, persistence and yes, even dealing with failure. One glaring lesson I have also learned is that baseball is a very cerebral game, one that requires a lot of focus, attention to detail and execution. It's a game where inches decide whether a pop-up is a pop-up or a monster home run. A game where the situation changes after each and every pitch and if you aren't on your toes every minute, you might end up looking like a total fool.

I learned all of that as a player. Now as a fan, I find myself doing the same things. Examining the situation. Almost like I am another coach...the one sitting twenty rows up in the lower deck, third base side. And quite frankly, I find it rather annoying when some clown (or fifty) is sitting in my section spewing nonsense at 4,000 decibels. It's worse when they know very little about the game itself.

I know, I know...those "clowns" paid their $50 for a ticket, their $20 for a warm beer and some hot dogs. Yeah, yeah. They have the right to yell and scream and generally act like tools. Take me to task.

I'm just saying that I prefer a warm, sunny spring afternoon, perhaps in Florida or Arizona, or in a Kauffman Stadium or Comerica Park on a lazy early fall afternoon, where I am one of a handful of true baseball afficionados, sitting back, hearing the sounds, soaking in the atmosphere, enjoying a game I love played the way it should be.

Is that wrong?