Camp Day at the Ballpark
Yesterday, Christine the Curmudgeon went to the New Hampshire Fisher Cats game. It was a rare weekday afternoon game, and they were having something called “Camp Day/Splash Day”. Busloads upon busloads of summer camp groups descended upon MerchantsAuto.com Stadium for the event. The “splash” part was provided by the Manchester Fire Department. They brought a fire engine and parked it outside the ballpark, and a couple of firefighters with a hose sprayed water down onto a part of the seating area. This area was clearly marked off as the “Splash Zone”, and they did give warnings when the splashing was to start.
Now you may wonder, WHY would Christine the Curmudgeon knowingly subject herself to this? Kids running around all over the place? Well, I love the team, and I wanted to enjoy a rare afternoon game. And I knew that there was an easy escape: the Sam Adams Bar & Grill, which is out in left field. You can go in there and still watch the game. I will tell you right now if the Sam Adams bar were not there, there’d be no way in hell that I’d go to a game like this. I would go completely crazy!
Earlier in the season, I had gone to a game where they were busing in school groups, as opposed to camp groups, being that school was in session at the time. At that game, I think I lasted about 4 or 5 innings in the seats, before I could take no more, and retreated to the Sam bar to watch the rest of the game in relative peace. So I knew exactly what to expect at this Camp Day thing – a lot of ill-behaved kids running around, getting up every five seconds to go to the concession stands, and generally annoying the crap out of me.
I got there about 45 minutes before the start of the game, and stopped in to visit Sam for a beer. Another downside about having large groups of kids are longer lines at the concessions. Even when it’s not Camp Day, whenever I’m in line behind people with kids, they take FOREVER to decide what they want and place their order. This ballpark does not have any “beer-only” concession stands; there are some small stands that have a couple of types of beer, but they also have a few other things, such as peanuts, soft pretzels, and sodas. So sometimes I get stuck in line behind gangs of kids there, as well.
So I drank my first Sam Summer of the day at the bar, as I didn’t have to wait in line for it. Also, I figured that I’d need some fortification for when I did get to the seats, no doubt I’d have to kick kids out of them. Yes, I said SEATS, I had bought two seats, hoping that Mr. Curmudgeon could somehow sneak out of work and come with me. But he couldn’t, so I went by myself.
After the National Anthem, I ordered a second beer, paid my tab, and took the beer out to my seats. Sure enough, two little girls in camp T-shirts were sitting in the seats, so I kicked them out. I made it quite clear that I was ticketed for BOTH seats. The camp group that these girls was a part of was sitting in front of me, and one of the adults was complaining about the fact that there were not enough seats foe their group. They did not like that I dared to show up made it clear that the two seats I kicked the girls out of were mine. No doubt they bought the cheapest seats and them decided to sit wherever they wanted. If they had just sat in the actual seats they were ticketed for, it would not have been a problem, now, would it? Jerks.
None of these people, kids or adults, were watching the game. The kids kept getting up every five minutes, a bunch of them were in my row, and I had to keep getting up to let them by (I was on the aisle, I always buy aisle seats). This one woman, who was one of this group’s handlers, spent the entire time fetching food and sodas for the kids. She was not a camp staffer, she was a parent volunteer trip chaperon. She did not look like she was having any fun. She’d probably rather be at home, watching the soaps on her LCD TV. I suspect that some of these kids would also have rather been at home, watching Spongebob or some such crap on TV, as well.
Anyhoo, I finished the beer and got up to get another one. Since I was by myself and didn’t have Mr. C or anyone else to guard my seat, I draped this small golf towel that I carry in my bag over the back of the seat, as a way to make it clear that I had not left. I did not want to come back and find kids sitting in my seats again.
I came back with a new beer, and no one was in my seats. But there were two boys in the seats directly in front of me who were not there before. I put my beer in the cup holder, and just barely rescued it when the boys started having a “sword fight” with those big foam fingers that every ballpark in the world sells, and one of said foam fingers almost took a dunk into my $5.75 Sam Summer. I managed to rescue it and not use the cup holder any more. That’s when I decided that I’d had enough, and as soon as I finished that beer, I was going back to the Sam bar. I lasted in the seats for only 4 1/2 innings.
It seemed that every adult at this game who did not have kids in tow had the same idea as I did. It was busy, but not too mobbed, as not every many people take off work to go to a afternoon game in the middle of the week. They do allow kids in the Sam bar, but no one is going to bring a Hugh Jass group of them in there. So it’s pretty safe from school and camp groups!
So my day was not ruined, not at all. Part of it was that I knew what to expect going in, and knew that there was an escape other than having to leave the ballpark in disgust. There’s this other ballpark, LeLacheur Park, home of the Lowell Spinners. At this place, it’s like Camp Day every day, ill-behaved kids running around all over the place, and there is no escape except to leave completely. No Sam Adams Bar & Grill there! So we just don’t go there anymore. That ballpark is hell on earth, let me tell you!
Sitting in the Sam with my beer and my hot dogs (why stand in a long-assed line when you can get it served to you at your seat in the bar?), I thought about how lucky I am. I felt so glad that I do not have to live the life of the woman who did nothing but fetch and deliver food and stuff to those bratty kids. Unlike her, when the kids got to be too annoying, I could just get up and leave, and not get thrown in jail or anything. I was free to go to the Sam bar and have more beer in relative peace.
I was also feeling grateful that I did not have to ride all the way home on a school bus full of these kids. I got to ride home on the nice, quiet Boston Express Bus. It’s air-conditioned, has comfy seats, free WiFi, even a restroom in the back. And no screaming kids. They have rather strict rules about being quiet and staying in your seat, and not bothering other passengers. And best of all, I did not have to take one or more of these little monsters home with me. Mr. Curmudgeon picked me up at the subway station, and we went out for dinner. And then went home to the Curmudgeon Cats.
Whether you are staunchly child-free, or on the fence about whether or not to reproduce, a visit to Camp Day at the ballpark is a good idea. For the fence-sitters, it will make you think about things, if this is what you really want your life to be like. For me, it made me all the more glad that Mr. C had a vasectomy years ago, and reinforced the fact that we have absolutely NO regrets over this choice.
And yes, it is ALWAYS a choice. ALWAYS.





