Take Me Out To The Ballgame!

Today is opening day for the Round Rock Express. It is the first time in 17 opening day seasons that I won't be there singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" with my kiddos. Hope my son gets me a baseball!

Title: Exit Boy of Summer

Dell Diamond

Round Rock, TX

Photo Credit: Rachael Ellisor

Enriching Music: Take Me Out To The Ballgame; Swing, Trace Adkins

    There are three wads of bubblegum in my mouth. It took me many tries and many splatters of pink gum on my face to get this shot. Think about a cow chewing cud, because that’s pretty much what I looked like. I contemplated calling this photo, “Thankfully not hit in the head during batting practice.”

We've been season ticket holders for all years of the Round Rock Express. I love baseball live. I nursed three babies in this stadium, in bathrooms, and in offices, so I wouldn't miss games. My son's first songs that he memorized were, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame” and "The National Anthem."

    My aroma therapy is smelling the leather of baseballs. When my son sees me keyed up, he says, “Here mama,” and hands me a baseball. I have baseballs scattered all over the house, in my classroom, and in my truck just to smell them when I get keyed up. When my son goes to a baseball game with his dad, he usually texts me, “I got you another baseball.”

    The Round Rock Express staff was kind enough to open the stadium for me early, so I could take these photos, and so I wouldn't get hit in the head during batting practice.

    It was the last game I attended with my children as a season ticket holder sitting in those seats behind the visitor's dugout. These photos are taken right in front of our seats.

    My son and I played a game of catch that day with my old Harmon Killebrew glove that my father used to play for the Air Force Jets. It is a well-loved glove. I carry it in my truck, so I won't ever miss a game of catch with my son.

     Watching live baseball, to me, is my secular church, except that you get to drink refreshing libations and yell at the ump. I always cheer loudest for the players with the lowest batting averages, much to the chagrin of my children.