Went to my first Appalachian Power baseball game last week, but I couldn't tell you a single thing about the game.
When my buddy "Struggles" invited me to join him and friends in the box that his company uses at Appalachian Power Park, I said yes immediately. I have had invites to other games; usually ones that would have involved sitting in the baking sun, frying like an egg. But a company box? Count me in.
Struggles, the nickname is another story, is a master host with mad social skills. He can have everybody, regardless of age, rolling all night long. He keeps the mood fun and light. He is like the mythological Trickster. He can break all the rules, say almost anything, but does it in such a way that people find it charming. Truly enviable.
Feeling like I was above the fray (the beer helped a bit on that) I watched the endless stream of people pass below. This is a huge social event-a Regatta like party. To hell with bars, all you single people out there. This is the place. A ballpark becomes an open air singles bar. And singles there were in droves. Yikes!
Women were dressed to kill, some even wore dresses with high heels. High heels at a baseball game? Oh honey, work it.
The game ended. Don't ask me the score. I was too busy people watching. I ran into a friend and we talked about work, Captain Beefheart and ancient Sumerian myths, while watching the parade below like it was TV.
If this be local baseball, then ok. I get it.
One real critique: the hot dogs were so blah and $. Others agree.