Play Ball!

I finally got into the much discussed Marlins Park. On Wednesday, D1 dropped me off at UM to meet Mike, so we could buy our Canes/Notre Dame tickets together. Mike told me there was a required stop on the way home: Fox's saloon. I didn't argue.

Over my 2 martinis and Mike's 3 Mai Tais (he's been watching a lot of "Mad Men" and exploring his inner early 60s self) he invited me to play hooky on Thursday and go to the game. Again, I didn't argue.

I took Metrorail to Mike's office, where we met up with 2 of his partners: another Mike, and Richie. Mike drove, through "historic Overtown," and we made it to the Park in about 10 minutes. Mike and I have a running joke about that 'hood. Do gooder liberals put up a sign on I-95 for tourists, presumably, telling them the exit for "Historic Overtown." They are restoring an old theatre there, but any tourists getting out of their cars in "Historic Overtown" will get a "Historic Carjacking."

We parked at a house I'm sure I parked at during my many trips to the old Orange Bowl, and the Latina owner even promised "No block-ee" just like in the old days.

The stadium is truly fantastic. It's bright and colorful and well planned. We got our upper deck seats, and though they're high, the view is perfect.

We walked around, and got some newfangled orange flavored beer that Budweiser sells. I had the most delicious burger I ever ate at a stadium. The crowd was in to the game -- the Fish swept the Cubs.

There's an homage to the old Orange Bowl. Mike and I stopped there and bowed our heads. There are bars, and stores, and an overall terrific experience.

Any my MAN, Heath Bell, got the save. Heath is built like I am. He looks more like a couch potato than a pro athlete. This is the beauty of baseball.

I grew up playing baseball, football, basketball, and street hockey. Baseball was my first love. The Mets won an improbably World Series Championship when I was 8 -- the age a boy falls in love with sports. And I was a serviceable first baseman, all through high school.

Now, at 50, I can't imagine being fast or strong enough for football. I wouldn't last a half of a quarter running a basketball court. I can't ice skate. But I can watch Heath Bell pitching, and think, in my deepsed fantasy world, that I could still play baseball.

If only I could throw a 95 mph fastball...

I called both Ds, and told them they and their boyfriends were in for some fun times. I have tickets for 9 games. I have a feeling they'll dig the place, like I do.