I had to give up on my 10-game rule
Teddy Escobar and his sons Toby, 3 (left) and Ray, 5, during the grand entrance of thousands of kids for the running of the bases at Safeco Field in Seattle. It’s not dangerous, but it looks a lot like the running of the bulls in Pamplona.
I used to go to Seattle occasionally to watch the Mariners play baseball in the 1970s and 1980s. I didn’t expect much then. So it wasn’t difficult to pay the cost.
But after 1995, the year of Edgar’s double, Junior’s run and the playoff defeat of the Yankees, I’ve expected more. I have expected more since 2001, when the Mariners won the most games ever in a season by a major league team.
So about five years ago, I imposed a 10-game rule on myself. I said I would not go to the stadium again until the Mariners won 10 in a row. My good buddy Dick Hansen laughed out loud in my face.
“They’ll never do that,” he said.
Well, maybe not in my lifetime. I gave up and, on July 17, sat in on an 8-1 loss to the Astros. Boring.
My brother Bob went the day before and saw a 1-0 win over the Astros. Boring, but a win. He went home thinking: “Tomorrow may not be a good day for Ted.”
The Astros scored their first run in the first inning when a runner successfully stole third base and came home on a bad throw to the left field corner by our catcher. For the rest of the game, that same catcher never hit the ball that far.
But it was a good day.
Our daughter Jenny treated Pat and me to hot dogs before the game started. Then, for the seventh-inning stretch, she bought us some peanuts and Cracker Jacks. I sang the entire song and didn’t miss a word. Good thing I practiced on Saturday.
Being an eastern Washington boy, I shook hands with the family to my left and the couple in front of me, and we chatted. The family was from L.A., the couple from Pullman.
The guy sitting next to me grew up a Dodger fan. I was a Dodger fan until the Mariners were born. At the same time the Mariners trailed 4-0 on the field, the Dodgers were behind 4-0 on the out-of-town scoreboard.
“Come on guys, do something,” my new friend repeated often. I echoed his sentiments.
Eventually, our part of the stadium turned to that old baseball tradition of heckling. A woman behind and to my right, asked loudly: “What are they doing?”
Trying to play baseball, I offered. She smirked and laughed.
“They’re not even trying,” she countered.
She may have been right. The Mariners were at three hits against four errors at that point, not to mention the error the scorekeeper ignored.
I don’t know why, but I stayed to the end. Then I asked daughter-in-law Sabrina where son Teddy and his two boys were.
“They went to run the bases,” she said.
Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that. I snapped the picture that accompanies this column so they’ll never forget.
Now that was worth the price of admission.
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