Your browser (Internet Explorer 7 or lower) is out of date. It has known security flaws and may not display all features of this and other websites. Learn how to update your browser.

X

Navigate / search

Sports Camp Adventure #2: The Best Worst Baseball Game Ever

Thursday night of Sports Camp was our off-night, so we took the kids to a Braves game.

First things first; we ate at The Varsity.

What’ll I have?  A Frosted Orange, that’s what.   It was as glorious as I remembered it.  I might be – no – I am definitely craving one right now.  If I chock it up to pregnancy and bat my eyelashes, do you think Dan would go get one for me?  Yeah, me either.

The kids in their Varsity hats.
The kids in their Varsity hats.

After our meal, though, my pregnantness reared its ugly head.  In hindsight, it was probably triggered by walking two miles in flat strappy shoes amongst hoards of people.  As I was climbing the stairs to the upper deck, I had a fierce case of déja-vu.

A stadium.  Hot.  Pregnant.

It all came back to me in horrible, horrible flashes.

I was reliving an experience I endured 4 years ago, at the SEC championship when I was 8 months pregnant with Madeline.   The parallels were many and unfortunate.  I made a chart for you.   (Be still my beating heart, a chart!)

SEC Championship 2007

Atlanta Braves Game 2011

The Georgia Dome, downtown Atlanta

Turner Field, downtown Atlanta

Football:  Tennessee v. LSU

Baseball:  Braves v. Mets

8 months pregnant.  (Exactly 2 weeks before I gave birth, little did I know.)

7.5 months pregnant.  Feels like 15 months.

Dumb idea.

Equally dumb idea.

I had been on my feet serving popcorn for 4 hours immediately prior to the game.

I had been on my feet working with kids and teenagers at Sports Camp immediately prior to the game.

We sat in (I climbed to) the nosebleed section – several rows from the top. 

We sat in (I climbed to) the nosebleed section –  several rows from the top.

I was wearing a thick, hot sweater, which it would have been totally inappropriate to remove. 

I was wearing the thinnest, coolest dress I owned in the 95 degree heat, which would have been totally inappropriate to remove.

My feet were so swollen that I had to remove my shoes – touching my bare feet to the floor of the Georgia Dome.  Ew.

My feet were so swollen that when I removed my shoes to touch my feet to the floor of Turner Field (ew, again) I had purple lines across my feet where my straps had dug into my flesh. 

I was surrounded by a group of intoxicated Tennessee college boys.  I stared at their butts all night because I could not stand up due to the altitude of the seats and the top-heavy/over-heated/swollen-foot situation.

I was surrounded by could-pass-for-intoxicated teenagers.  I stared at their butts all night because I could not stand up due to the altitude of the seats and the top-heavy/over-heated/swollen-foot situation. 

I watched one of Dan’s co-workers flirt with him all evening, totally unable to get up, form words, intervene, play my pregnant trump card, etc.  I barely had the energy to breathe.

Nothing like this happened last week.  Making the Braves game slightly more bearable than the SEC championship.  Tomahawk chop!

 

Now the “attend a sporting event when I’m about to birth a baby” has become a thing.  During my next pregnancy I’d like to go be miserable at the NBA finals.  Are you listening, honey?  I said NEXT PREGNANCY.

I waited until we’d been in our seats for 13 minutes before I turned to Dan and we had this little interaction:

“I need a water.”

“Kate, it’s like $7 here.”

“I SAID I need a water.”

“It’s still really early in the game.”

“I cannot feel my legs.  Don’t make me show you my purple sausage toes.”

Dan got me a water.  An hour later I turned to him and said,

“I need a lemonade.”

“*sigh*  What size?”

I love him.

It was a great game, as far as baseball goes.  What I mean by that is that it was sinfully boring 90% of the time instead of 100% of the time.  There were two home runs, the Braves had a comeback in the bottom of the ninth, and ended up winning in extra innings because the Mets pitcher balked.  Dan had to explain balking to me after the game – and I’m glad I didn’t understand it any earlier, because now that I know what it means I think it’s a pretty cheap way to win a game.  I’m not saying the Braves didn’t deserve it, I’m just saying that once I had all the information, all the hooting, hollering celebration seemed ever-so-slightly excessive.

In all seriousness, it was a good time.  The best worst baseball game I’ve ever been to.

Good kids.
Good kids.

(It did take extra innings, but our fanatically dancing boys made it on the big screen!  Bravo, bravo.)