'I can't believe I've been subjective to this,' I said this to myself as I following Frank through the stands. I was practically begged into coming here out of all places in Milwaukee and wouldn't you know it was Miller Park or something. Apparently they changed the name of the stadium recently but Frank keeps on calling it Miller Park anyway. I never was a big fan of baseball or any sort of sport within the matter.
All I was interested was money and business. My family owes the firm over in London. I was supposed to be the next big boss but both of my parents decided to cut my expenses of their money and I've resigned to live in a tralier park home with a hillbilly who was low class. Granted, he's very friendly and has been a great host, but I would rather be the boy who received a cat instead of a dog from his parents when he wasn't responsible from what I heard in the paper the other day.
Anyways here I am in dark polo shirt and cargo pants while also wearing some expensive shoeware following Frank who was completely covered with Brewer mech attire. I was sweating here as he was going to go all fan boy today. We finally reach to our seats which were upon the benches in the middle of a crowd of Brewer fans. Frank smiled as he turn around towards me as I excused myself going in front of people. Once I was there, he said: "These are our seats."
I replied with a scoff: "You got to be kidding me..."
He responded with a friendly remark: "No, I'm not this time. Trust me, these seats are the best in the house. Also they are very much affordable."
"Couldn't we do some seats from the box up there instead?" I asked as I point them out.
Frank goes: "Nah man, those are way too expensive for my taste. Plus you hardly will get the full baseball experience by going up there."
Annoyed, I sighed: "Okay whatever you say Frank." I then pounded there wishing to be somewhere else. The game started after the Nation Anthem. Frank shows his patriot self but standing by, holding his hand over his heart and singing completely falsetto. I covered my ears as I just stand there paying this nation some respect.
Once that odreal was done, the game finally started and I was bored out of mind. I didn't know anything about this ridiculous sport yet I have Frank here telling me every play that was happening. All I know is that the Milwaukee Brewers were going against some Arizona who I dont really care and either did the fans apparently.
After a few plays went by, Frank gets out his blue backpack and places on his lap. He always brings it anywhere we go. Once he had the backpack there stationery, he went through it looking for something. "Come on. Where is it? I know it was here the last time I put it. Ah, there it is," is all what I heard as he whispered all of this to himself. He then bought out some old mitten that was the size of my head. I turn my head slightly to see this particular item he was looking for.
After he zips up the backpack, he places it back on the floor while holding unto the mitten with his left hand. He next goes as he hands me over the mitten by dropping it on my lap gently: "Here you go Nigel."
Shocked, I replied: "What's this for?"
He gives me a look; one of those silly ones you give to a friend 'are you serious' kind. The next thing he did was reply: "It's a baseball mitt. It's meant to catch a baseball."
"Catch!?" Me with a dumbfounded look upon my face.
Frank replied calmly: "You see those athletes out there? That's how they catch a baseball without hurting their hand."
"But why would I need one?"
"To caught a fly ball of course. I even got my own mitten myself, see?" He said as he then showed me his with his right hand. The next thing he did was put on the glove in his left hand.
I then proceeded to do the same and turn my head towards him asking: "Like this?"
Frank nodded while responding: "Yes, just like that. Now just be sure to put the glove in front of your face. You don't want a high fast fly baseball to hit you. It's not fun, trust me." He even placed his glove in front of him to show me what's he talking about.
"Yeah, I see. Thanks for the tip bit."
"What on Earth is a tip bit?"
"It means info Frank."
"Ah, gotcha. You Britsh folk and your fancy words."
"I'm sure some Americans say it too."
He then chuckled: "Haha, none that I know of then. Oh before I forget..."
Frank then gave me some cargo shorts and a light blue polo shirt with a Brewers logo on it from out of his backpack. "I figured you need this."
"Thank you Frank. That was very thoughtful of you."
"No problem Nigel. Gonna lookout for my buddy. After all it is your first ball game."
"How did you know?"
"One asks a lot of questions when it's their first."
"I guess I'm too obvious."
"A little on the nose," said Frank as he pokes his nose.
I then excused myself to go to the nearest bathroom to change into my shorts and new polo shirt given from Frank. Once I came back and before I took my seat, everyone was standing including Frank. "What's going on Frank?" I asked my friend.
"It's a fly ball and it's heading towards our way Nigel."
I turn my head to see what he and everyone was looking at and I could see the ball but barely. The next I heard was Frank go: "Remember, be sure to put your glove in front of your face."
"Okay," I replied nervously. As I did so, I felt Frank move my hand slightly up and shortly afterwards I felt a slight pain in my palm of my hand. It was then I realized it was the fly ball and I was the one to catch it.
Excitment went through my veins as I then yelled: "I DID IT! I CAUGHT MY FIRST BALL!" Everyone cheered for me as well as Frank.
"Way to go buddy," said Frank as he patted me on the back.
I replied: "Thank you for the assist pal."
"No problem," he smiled with his goofy grin.
Shortly afterwards it was the Sausage Races. I chose Italian while Frank chose Polish and I won the guessing game. It eventually became the seventh inning stretch and before you know it, I was singing along with Frank "Take Me Out to the Ball Game." We even had hot dogs, waffle fries with nacho cheese and drinks. I had my ginger ale and Frank had his root beer. I never thought I would love baseball until that day.
After the stretch, I turn to Frank and mentioned: "Thank you for taking me out to my first ball game."
He replied: "Don't mentioned it. I hope you enjoyed it."
"I certainly am and even still. I just never think I would love baseball in my entire life. This is crazy!"
He smiled and replied: "As the old saying goes: 'you'll never know unless you try.'"
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