Bull of a time

One of the great things about living in Cary, NC, is the proximity of cultural activities. I was invited by a friend of mine to attend a Durham Bulls game last night. Since the last baseball game I had been to was over ten years ago, I thought it would be great fun to attend, and bring my 3 year old son for some Father-Son bonding time. We got to the park about 15 minutes before the game started, and proceeded to our seats. Being a minor league park, every seat has that “you’re a part of the action” feel, not the “you are so far away from the action that you had better bring your binoculars to see the ants play” seat like some of big league stadiums. The seats we had were right behind the Bulls dugout, about 10 rows back, it was like being on field with the team.

Even though I am not a huge baseball fanatic, there is something about actually being at a game that is magical. The crack of the bat, the snap of the ball hitting the leather mitts, the cheering of the crowd. My son of course was much more interested in the sno-cone than the game, but for about 30 seconds he watched as the players threw lasers at each other, warming up. The best part of the night was when we got home and he excitedly told his mother all about watching “soccer”. I guess I have a little more work to do with him.

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