I have been told that I’m attending my very first professional sporting event this week — a Diamondbacks game — with my Cypress family. Rumors are flying about this sport they call “baseball,” and I am finding this game quite baffling.
First of all, I hear the players play on a diamond. From what my mom tells my dad, diamonds should be big, but after snooping in her jewelry box, I have no idea how nine people can fit, let alone play a game, on a diamond. I guess the team has to get their name from somewhere. To make matters more confusing, I keep hearing about this “fly ball” that is going to be in the stands. Balls with wings? They should really consider calling it a snitch (shout out to my Harry Potter pals — what, you thought this pooch couldn’t read?).
Next, the only-one-ball-for-nine-players concept really throws me off. One ball for nine pooches would never work at the dog park! And what is up with strikes in baseball? After my bowling adventure in March, I was positive they were a good thing. After all, people were cheering for each one, and bowling three in a row was possibly the greatest accomplishment our Cypress bowlers could achieve. But here we are, heading to the baseball game, and I hear three strikes in a row kicks a person out. No wonder they have to remind the players there’s no crying in baseball.
As a pup that’s not used to staying put for more than an hour, I am most excited for the seventh inning stretch. By that time I’ll be more than ready to spread out my legs, and maybe I can even convince my dad to take me for a walk — I just hope it doesn’t mean I have to lose four balls first!