We were all a little burned out from storm clean-up, so we decided to take a day off and go to another ball game.
Her she is waiting for the train.
Now, I have never bought a major league baseball ticket.
Even though I have been to all three Busch Stadiums since the 60's, I have never purchased a ticket.
To the First Busch Stadium, I would have gone with my parents and a Cub Scout game. Barely remember it, but we do have a pennant from it.
Went with a cousin from England to one at stadium 2.
Didn't buy a ticket for that one either. She got picked up in a bar, he bought tickets on the street and we insisted I, the non-baseball-lover, go with her as chaperon. Yea, me!
And first time at this new stadium we were given tickets to the club house.
So, I almost fainted when I found out the actual price of a ticket. You almost had to give me one of the twelve dollar 4oz beers to keep me upright.
We arrived sometime in the third inning. Just in time to see. . . . .
Just in time to see her favorite (two ball games and she already has a favorite) hit a home run.
We were also lucky enough to be at the game that also had . . . .
So we lined up with probably several thousand (no probably about it) other kids to run the bases.
(So many kids that Fred Bird had to go rest his 'high five' hand before we got to him.)
All those little red dots going around the bases in semi-controlled order.
Her she is after her mad dash.
Mom and daughter at the dug-out.
Hangin' with 'Stan the Man!'
Well, I guess I need to start checking on the price of season tickets.
(Can we sneak our own beer in?)