I finally made it to a Trash Pandas game the other weekend.
The traffic on the way to the stadium wasn’t bad, and parking was a breeze. I had mentally prepared myself for that not to be the case based on what I had previously heard from patrons, but it seems they’ve got all of the bugs worked out. Despite the game being close to a sellout, there was plenty of parking available when we arrived about 20 minutes before the first pitch. And, I was surprised that even though Toyota Field had more strenuous security than Army Materiel Command, it didn’t take that long to get into the stadium.
Based on the number of people in attendance, and the girl sitting next to us who built a two-story, four bedroom, three bath dollhouse with an in-ground pool, it seems the stadium is still holding on to its status as a must-see attraction for people who don’t care about baseball. Regardless of the reasons people attend the baseball games, I just hope they keep coming out. I love having baseball back in town.
Upon entering the ballpark, my first stop (like in every ballpark I visit) was the team store. Like every other basic middle-aged man, I have an unhealthy obsession with baseball caps. I have enough hats to wear a different one every day and people will still say “ya basic.”
So there I was standing in the doorway of the team shop, looking at a densely packed mob of people who were swarming the hat racks like a colony of bees trying to protect its queen.
In this particular metaphor the queen was a size 7½ New Era 59/50 low profile blue Trash Pandas hat with the raccoon logo. Really I would have settled for any low profile 59/50 ball cap.
It was also in that moment I figured out why I got vaccinated. Because I immediately plunged myself into the horde and pushed my way to the front.
As I was rifling through each stack of hats, which the mob had turned into a disorganized mess of mixed sizes, I adopted a tactic of asking people what size they were looking for whenever one of them tried to butt me out of the way.
This served two purposes: people thought I was genuinely being nice to them and it helped me identify who my competition was for this 7½ 59/50 low profile hat. So if someone were to say to me “I’m looking for a 7 3/8,” then I would be happy to point them in the direction of where I’d seen the last 7 3/8. But if they were looking for a 7 ½ then I would happily point them to all the hats I’d already looked through, knowing there was not a 7 ½ to be found.
What I learned from this exercise in futility is that everyone claims their head measures 7 ½ inches. Eventually I found two stacks of hats size 7 1/2.
Unfortunately neither of these were of the low profile variety.
You may wonder why it makes a difference. You’re probably saying to yourself, “a hat is just a hat.”
You would be wrong.
Nevertheless, I ended up buying both of the hats I found. Because at that point I had broken a sweat and felt like it would be a waste to perspire for no good reason.
Even though I didn’t get the hat I wanted, later that night I did manage to catch a souvenir foam baseball that was shot into the stands between innings. And for the record I would have given it to that kid but he had already caught the T-shirt I wanted.
| Date Taken: | 06.16.2021 |
| Date Posted: | 07.02.2021 11:26 |
| Story ID: | 399084 |
| Location: | HUNTSVILLE, AL, US |
| Web Views: | 20 |
| Downloads: | 0 |
This work, SNIPPETS: Catching up on souvenirs at the old ballgame, by Jonathan Stinson, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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