Thursday, June 30, 2016

Out In Left Field

Here's a weird thing about my family. Whenever we take in a day at our hometown Mariners' ballpark, we invariably root for the other team.

It's not that we're anti-Mariners. We harbor no ill will to our local Seattle team. 

The truth is just that most of us have developed a love connection to another MLB franchise. My husband still wears his heart on his sleeve for his childhood hometown heroes, the Cleveland Indians. 

My first- and fourth-borns, huge baseball fans each, carry a torch for the Boston Red Sox and Texas Rangers, respectively. The story goes that each of them watched their future favorites in multiple World Series performances and fell in love. 

As for me, Chicago Cubs all the way. Back in my Windy City days, I spent many a pleasant afternoon in the friendly confines of Wrigley's left field bleachers and my loyalties since then are unquestioned.

So last weekend, when the aforementioned Rangers were in town for a series against the Seattle Mariners, we enjoyed a few games from my favorite section in the whole ballpark.

^ Looking up in left field.

^ A clean view of the left-field turf... and my scorecard. Love to capture the game data. plus it keeps me paying attention to the action on the field instead of wondering what to eat next. 

^ Friday night was Fireworks Night. As the players trotted off the field at the end of the game, 
we left-fielders were hurried out of our seats as well, since the pyrotechnics were about to explode right over our heads. 

* * * * *

Sure, we Streichers get a few weird looks from the hardcore hometown fans as we stroll in to the stadium with our mismatched team gear and clap for the away guys' runs. But, devoted as we are to our various teams, we don't mind being a bit different.

You might even say we're comfortable being out in left field. 

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