I’ve never really thought much about a bucket list. Perhaps I should. Sure, when I was invincible in my 20s and life was forever, it was easier to put it off until later. Now, however, I am in my 30s and life is almost over, so it’s time to start spending my time more effectively. There’s still no solid bucket list item, except for one: I want to see a baseball game in all thirty Major League ballparks within my adult life.
I don’t know, to answer the question that some of you already have; I don’t know how it will count in my mind if a team builds a new stadium. Does the old one count if I went to it? Do I have to go back to the new stadium, too? If I missed the old one, do I automatically fail and have to give up on my fun little life goal? I simply don’t know. I want to see all thirty teams play home games, then I’ll figure it out from there. The point is, I finally have a bucket list.
As recently as this past August, I had only checked off three ballparks. I’ve been to Wrigley Field countless times. I’ve been to Miller Park in Milwaukee for a handful of quick road trips north, and I attended a four-game series in Seattle, because that makes perfect geographical sense. I do not count my two childhood visits to Comiskey Park or Jacobs Field in Cleveland, as I barely remember them (unless I die before I get back to either of those two ballparks, in which case they count). I had only been to games at three out of thirty ballparks. Through August, I was batting .100.
Many baseball teams make it to the playoffs by getting hot at the right time, namely in September. This September, I took a nice chunk out of the list – or the bucket, whatever – when I visited seven new ballparks. I saw the Cubs play their rival Cardinals in St. Louis in the final series of the regular season in what ended up being Joe Madden’s final win as a Cub. Two weeks ago, I saw Mets rookie phenomenon Pete Alonso commit aggravated assault of a baseball to send it sailing out of Coors Field in Colorado, defeating the hometown Rockies. Both of those experiences were pretty darn cool.
But in early September I had a rare opportunity. There was airline credit in my name from a previously cancelled flight waiting to be spent before the end of the year. I took a look at the Major League Baseball schedule, then took a traveler’s leap of faith. I tested my endurance to jetlag and put my bank account on the line. I attend five baseball games, in five different stadiums, all in five days.
I flew to Burbank, California and visited Dodger Stadium that night. The Oakland Athletics played the next day, so I flew there, then rented a car and drove across the bay to San Francisco. I spent the next morning at the Golden Gate Bridge and that evening at Oracle Park, home of the Giants. I flew back down to Anaheim to see the Angels get their wings clipped by Cleveland. Then, on the final day, I rented another car and drove along the Pacific Ocean from Los Angeles to San Diego, capping off my journey with my beloved Cubbies versus the Padres at Petco Park. The next day was devoted to flying home with many pictures, memories, stories, and useless souvenirs. I returned with a lot of thoughts to process, both as a baseball fan and as a member of life.
Therefore, with the Major League Baseball Season rounding third and headed full speed into the playoffs, I thought I’d share my experiences from my journey through the California circuit of baseball stadiums. These were my own experiences, which were shaped – for better or worse – by very specific circumstances. I’ll just do my best to share my own, and hopefully you may gain something from it, whether it be inspiration to try chipping away at your own bucket list, or just laughing with me, or at me, as I learn life and baseball lessons.
Dodger Stadium – Los Angeles Dodgers
Alright, so, here’s the thing. I pretty much hate Los Angeles sports teams, so I went into this trip with a silly hatred of the Dodgers that may have surpassed even my silly hatred of the St. Louis Cardinals. Part of it has to do with the fact that the Dodgers have been in the World Series for two straight years and are expected to make it to their third straight, which annoys me as a Cubs fan during an era that the Cubs are actually good at baseball.
Another large part of it has to do with the reputation that Los Angeles sports fans have for not caring and for being, well, assholes. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, because my first night in California shook my baseball world to its core.
Imagine that you’re me. I’m finally approaching the gate to the first of five new stadiums, officially attending a game at a ballpark I had not been to yet. As I pass through the metal detector and have my ticket scanned, I have one thought on my mind.
I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this.
Frankly, I was just excited to start checking off ballparks from my bucket list. But as I got my first glimpse of the field, with the beautiful, sunbaked hills of Chavez Ravine backdropping the outfield scoreboard, my excitement ballooned into awe. I meandered around the concourse, checking out the little displays of Dodgers history plastered throughout while frequently stopping to just gaze out at the field and the gorgeous surroundings of the ballpark.
My seat was up high, almost perfectly centered so that I could call balls and strikes from above, giving me an even better view of Dodger Stadium. I spent much of that evening pondering how amazing it must be to play baseball here. I found myself wishing I could afford to come back and watch baseball here much more often.
Even outside of the stadium after the game, I found myself in deep appreciation of the fun, bear-sized bobbleheads, a microphone-shaped monument to the great announcer Vin Scully, and in a much more serious moment, the statue of Jackie Robinson, the legend that broke the color barrier in baseball.
That’s when it hit me: I… don’t hate the Dodgers anymore.
That’s how much I appreciated Dodger Stadium. It wasn’t just the view, though. The people won me over as well. Yes, those people. Okay, fine, maybe not all of them, but I just happened to interact with the right people to make the night enjoyable.
I sat next to a couple of friendly Dodgers fans and right behind a guy that happened to be from the Chicago suburbs. We all talked throughout the game, getting to know each other and becoming temporary friends over our various degrees of love for baseball. The California bro at the guest services stand was also surprisingly friendly and told me a whole bunch of interesting facts and tips about the park. For instance, the concourse on one level is so wide because it was originally intended for A-List celebrities to drive their cars in and watch baseball, like a drive-in movie. Isn’t that cool?
Better yet, he began nearly every new Dodger Stadium fact with, “You wanna hear something totally off the hook? Yo, trip out on this, bro!” I love and fuckin’ hate that guy.
Hell, even my rideshare drivers were delightful human beings. The young woman that drove me to the game was originally from Honduras and had a very, very small grasp of English. I have a very, very small grasp of Spanish, so we were both struggling at first. However, we each knew just barely enough of each other’s languages to be able to translate back and forth, enough to teach each other a little bit, all while getting to know each other as well. It was a unique episode of humanity that I really wish would occur more often.
So, yeah, the damn Dodgers won me over with their beautiful stadium, rich baseball history and surprisingly friendly fans. Alright, fine, I’ll go back to hating St. Louis for silly sports reasons.
Ricky Henderson Field at Oakland Coliseum – Oakland Athletics
The only day game on this trip was the A’s the following afternoon. How was the Coliseum in Oakland? Garbage. The concourse was old and decrepit, made entirely of concrete smelling a vague tinge of decades of urine. It reminded me of the concourse of Wrigley Field if Wrigley Field wasn’t cool or renovated.
The baseball field, though? Actually, not bad. It wasn’t the prettiest ballpark out there, but it got the job done during a nice sunny afternoon game. And for all of the awe I just described about Dodger Stadium, this rundown dump may have been my favorite stadium experience of the entire trip.
The most common theme, and one of the most important components factoring into my enjoyment of each park on this trip, was the people. The people I interacted with often made or broke a particular park for me. The fanbase in Oakland felt special. There was an aura of “We’re all in this together” that permeated through the seats. And to my pleasant surprise, it was very family friendly.
There was a nice lady with a microphone that would travel around the park and give away free stuff to people (often children) that would take public quizzes between innings. Through one round of the batting order, instead of their default headshot, the scoreboard displayed a crayon-drawn portrait of each A’s player from a local kindergarten as they came up to bat. It was heartwarming and adorable, two adjectives I did not expect to use for anything about Oakland. During the seventh inning stretch, “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” was simply performed by the fans, all singing together as one.
I also began a conversation with a guy close to my age in the seat next to me before the game started, a conversation lasted the entirety of the game. We talked baseball, we talked travel, we talked life. And just before the previously mentioned stretch, he smiled and said, “You can yell ‘Cubbies’ if you want (after ‘it’s root, root, root for the …’).” Of course, I was already going to do so, but it was a nice gesture. I made a new friend, and with the aura around the ballpark, that didn’t seem to be out of place.
They’re rough, tough Oakland sports fans, sure, but among their displayed hostility there was a sense of community, somewhat like Wrigley Field. Granted, the A’s had a good season, and they did win that particular game. Perhaps my experience was a bit skewed by good team fortune, but with that considered, I gained a new respect for the Oakland Athletics and their fans.
A quick travel note: The advantage of a day game in Oakland was that I could drive across the Bay Bridge to San Francisco and spend the following morning trekking across the Golden Gate Bridge on foot rather than navigating another airport. The bridge was pretty cool, go see it. But again, it was the people that made this trip for me.
I ate the most delicious burrito I’ve ever had while sitting with two very friendly strangers from California and Arkansas, respectively, that told me about the town. I swapped photography duty with a couple of nice ladies from Texas, as well as a sweet couple from Sidney, Australia. The Air BNB I stayed in ended up being a hostel, where I met people from Italy, Austria, France, and Mexico. I’m still in contact with a couple of these people today. Like I said, it was the people that made this trip for me. Anyway, as far as baseball goes, it was also people that occasionally broke it for me.
Oracle Park – San Francisco Giants
Heading into my trip, this was probably the ballpark I was the most excited about. I got a nice cheap seat up high, so I could see the bay behind the outfield wall. The San Francisco Giants, the team that won the World Series three times in five years this very decade, weren’t my favorite team, but I respected their legacy. I respected their history. Between that history and the view I expected, this was going to be my favorite non-Cubs experience of this trip around the California bases.
A statue of the great Willie Mays stood outside the park at the front corner, and the sign for the stadium was surrounded by well-placed palm trees to create a very pleasant entrance gate. Once inside, the park was set up so that a lazy, semi-healthy baseball fan in his thirties could easily walk an entire lap around it on one level. Several Oracle Park staff members emphatically suggested that I do so.
The concourse was nice, and felt cleaner than it probably was. The small attractions throughout the hallways ranged from historically awesome to fun and goofy, from three World Series Championship trophies to the most ridiculous and extensive bobble head collection I’ve seen in person.
Someone from a previous part of my trip had suggested I get a crab sandwich here. Normally, the prospect of eating seafood at a ballpark is barely more appealing as the prospect of sleeping on the floor of a public bathroom. But come on, this is San Francisco. The bay is right there (*points vaguely, possibly in the wrong direction). The seafood is probably fresh. It was indeed fresh, and it was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten at a ballpark. It was definitely too expensive for a sandwich, but it was damn delicious!
The view from my seat did not disappoint. It was gorgeous. You could see the bay behind both outfield walls, boats out on the water, and even a hint of mountains in the distance off to the left side. I probably spent more time gazing over the wall as the sun continued to set than I did watching the game (more on that momentarily).
The unnecessary giant baseball mitt and Coke bottle statues above left-center field were the only things that weren’t perfect about this view. I don’t know who thought to build a baseball stadium right here, but they knew what they were doing. I spent the entire evening gazing out in awe, enjoying the view while sharing a nice conversation with… nobody.
This was the biggest difference between the first two games and the next two games on my trip. The people I encountered at Dodger Stadium and the Oakland Coliseum were so friendly that I walked away with a new appreciation for both organizations. People were generally spread out at Oracle Park, and everyone kept to themselves. Only a quarter of this beautiful stadium was even full at any given point.
For eight innings, nobody said a word to me, until I walked down and watched the ninth inning from an opening near the front gate so I could get the hell out of there as soon as the game ended. I was cold, lonely, and exhausted.
Look, I love baseball with all my heart, but I understand what it is. If you’re not invested in a game or in a team, it can often be hard to watch with genuine amusement. Honestly, I appreciate a good baseball game as much as anybody, so the lack of interaction wouldn’t have even bothered me that much if the crowd had been on fire for their team. But the biggest cheer of the night came for the bat boy running out near the pitcher’s mound to grab a hamburger wrapper. Good job though, kid.
This is why people are so important to a baseball game. Live baseball is a blast if you have someone to share it with. My parents kept quoting Mark Twain to me before I left for this trip: “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” The evening breeze blowing through Oracle Park was indeed a chilly one, but it was the people that froze me out of enjoying it to the fullest.
Angel Stadium – Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim
I flew down to Orange County the next morning, killing time at an outlet mall trying very hard not to spend money, like a dog trying its hardest not to eat fries left unattended at the edge of a coffee table. To the pleasant surprise of my wallet, I was mostly successful.
It must have been because I was excited for that evening. I was about to watch the greatest of his generation – and when he’s done, possibly of all time – do his thing, in his prime, in his home stadium.
I was about to watch Mike Trout play baseball.
Sure, Angel Stadium would probably have been more impressive had I not just seen the most beautiful stadium view possible the night before or been wowed by the Dodgers two days prior to that. It was still a pretty cool park, the second consecutive to be set up so that I could hike my way around it on one level. The decorative outfield fountain and rocks were pleasant. It was a fine park, but I didn’t care. My Trout jersey had been purchased, my seat had been found. I was ready to watch the best.
Finally, the starting lineups. First, the Cleveland Indians, who were in the middle of a red hot Wild Card chase. Then, it began. Mike Trout normally bats second.
“Batting first for the Angels, some guy.” Alright, cool. I can’t wait to see this place explode for Mike Trout.
“Batting second… some guy.” Oh, okay. Well, traditionally, baseball teams would put their best hitter third in the lineup. Maybe they’re switching it up tonight.
“Batting third, (Japanese sensation) Shohei Otani!” Huh. Well, maybe Trout’s batting clean-up.
“Batting fourth, some guy.” The sinking realization hit me like a line drive to the groin.
Mike Trout wasn’t in the lineup.
I was crushed. The whole point of this night, other than checking a stadium off the list, was to see Mike Trout in his prime. I was admittedly more upset than I probably had the right to be. It turns out that Mike Trout had something removed from his foot and had gone on the injured reserve list the day before I arrived. Man, it sure would have been nice to have caught him before he went down.
He was on pace to possibly win baseball’s Triple Crown, leading in batting average, runs batted in and nearly tied for the home run lead. He probably would have done it if he had kept playing this season. Alas, the shit removed from Mike Trout’s foot kept him to only third most home runs in the majors, and me from seeing him play live.
The Trout-less disappointment I felt made the lousy Angels fans seem like a background annoyance. There were probably six of them there. I’m exaggerating, but not that much. The place was a quarter full, if I’m being generous, and a heavy majority of them were Cleveland fans.
One such Cleveland fan gave me dirty looks upon learning I was a Cubs fan, as if the magical journey in 2016 to break the 108 year championship drought had gotten in their way. Sorry, fool. We were the heroes; you were the obstacle. I know, I’m on a tangent. That’s how little the Angels fans impressed. They were probably even worse than the Giants fans from the previous night.
However, the Angel Stadium staff was the delightful opposite. The concession workers were the friendliest I had met at a baseball game, ever. That includes myself, when I worked at the Kane County Cougars for half a summer. Then I ended up chatting with an usher on the top deck for quite a while, as he was also incredibly friendly.
Four innings into the game, I went over and talked to him a little bit more. This usher decided to take his lunch break and walk me downstairs to show me where and how to sneak into better seats (many, many of which were open). I did so for a little bit, sitting near the left field wall, just for a change. But the Angels were being Infinity Gauntlet snapped out of this game, almost as if the great Mike Trout wasn’t in their lineup.
I made the trip back to the upper level, found my usher friend, and just chatted with him and one of his coworkers for the rest of the game. Despite a second straight lousy fanbase and a Mike Trout-sized hole in my heart, the staff at Angel Stadium made my evening a positive one.
Petco Park – San Diego Padres
I could write this entire story about my road trip down the southern California coast, thrice stopping to hang out at the edge of the Pacific Ocean for an hour at a time. It’s surreal to look out at a horizon and almost feel like you can slightly see the curvature of the earth.
To stand in the sand with the tide surrounding my ankles over and over, staring out at the endless, powerful aquatic mass in front of me, pondering just how small I was compared to it – this was oddly the most peaceful thing I had experienced. There was a constant smile on my face as I drove south toward San Diego, a genuine sense of joy that had overtaken all other thoughts or senses. The ocean makes me happy.
To add to my joy was the anticipation of seeing my hometown Cubs play in the finale to my baseball bucket list tour. The Padres’ home stadium was fantastic, though.
Friends, let me tell you, Petco Park is awesome. I flashed my ticket and entered the gate to find myself on what still seemed like part of a city block just outside the stadium. At first I thought I had gone into the wrong place, or that maybe I would need to show my ticket again to go further. People had dogs on leashes, sat on the grassy hill overlooking the field, and played catch with baseballs or frisbees. This was apparently part of the park, as if the city and the stadium had melded into one entity.
The décor was unique, as well, with some great history displays, some random ivy hanging off of a catwalk, the various local vendors that all had stands, and the view of the park looking one way and the city looking the other. One of the famous barbeque stands even had a group of picnic tables and a bunch of chairs. That’s right, friends, there were places to sit and eat! As someone who has eaten multiple Wrigley Field hot dogs while leaning against a concrete wall next to a trash can, I greatly appreciated this feature of San Diego’s baseball stadium.
I spent a little extra to get very nice seats a few rows from the field, since I can’t afford to do that at Wrigley. That in itself was pretty cool. During the game, I developed a newfound respect for the Padres prized offseason acquisition, third baseman Manny Machado. After fetching a line drive that narrowly bounced foul, he made a point to toss the ball over the netting to a fan. The fan cheered, then actively looked around for a child, finally spotting a young father several rows behind him holding a baby. The man shot up the stairs and showed the baseball to the baby, which made the baby smile, and everyone in our section cheered loudly, including myself. That was pretty cool as well.
But the young father began making his way down the stairs in what I believe was going to be an attempt to grab Machado’s attention, to thank him. He didn’t need to go far. Manny Machado, mega-star baseball player, was still paying attention. He acknowledged the father with a smile, a short wave, and a professional nod. It was as if he were telling that father, Hey, I’ve got you. You’re welcome.
I can’t describe it further than that, other than just to tell you that Manny Machado seemed to bring himself down to earth to acknowledge a thankful man, rather than tossing a ball to the peasants in the stands like some star baseball players tend to do. That was cool.
I started this trip at two stadiums with great fans that were friendly to me and made my experience wonderful, followed by two stadiums where the fans basically didn’t even show up. I’d love to be able to break the tie and tell you about the Padres fans, but I can’t. There were droves of Cubs fans, possibly over half of the attendance for the game.
My section alone was probably ninety-eight percent Cubs fans. I was part of my own problem in this case, as I was not focused on the Padres fans at all. Therefore, I cannot rate the Padres fanbase because I simply don’t know. I was just focused on the Cubs. They had barely lost a thriller the previous night, while still scoring eight runs. The night before that, they won handily while scoring ten runs. This night? They lost two to nothing. Come on.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn this into a diatribe about the Cubs inconsistencies this season. It was just humorously bad timing after having just missed out on Mike Trout the day before.
I’m very thankful that I even had the opportunity to do this, to actually chase a silly but fulfilling dream, to bite a large chunk of my bucket list in such a short amount of time, and to be able to make an adventure out of it. This was an awesome trip as a baseball fan, but also a significant adventure that may have slightly changed my life.
Besides, to be fair, I did see a much younger Mike Trout play four games as a visitor in Seattle in 2013, so it’s not like I’ve completely missed out on seeing him play.
Lastly, just for the fun of it, I’ve rated a few different aspects of each ballpark. Perhaps you’ll have a different experience if you decide to visit any of these stadiums. That’s fine. Things are different sometimes. That’s how life works. I’d encourage any baseball fan to give it a shot someday, as all five ballparks are frankly worth at least a visit for various different reasons.
Best Baseball Field – Dodger Stadium (Dodgers)
This is the perfect blend of classic and modern. It doesn’t try too hard to be something that it’s not. Dodger Stadium lets the view and the history speak for itself, with a sound system and video board that are easy to hear and see, respectively, nice bullpens in the corners with areas for fans to observe from above, and not a single bad seat in the house for the view.
Worst Field: None. Probably Oakland, but the field is still decent, so I’ll say none. But the answer is Oakland.
Best View – Oracle Park (Giants), or Dodger Stadium (Dodgers)
It all depends on what you like from your natural backdrop. Do you like water or do you like desert mountains? I like them both, so this is honestly still a toss-up for me as I’m typing this. But it seems like people I show pictures to prefer the view of the bay behind the wall. It’s Oracle Park’s title to lose, but Dodger Stadium is a strong contender.
Worst View: Oakland. Nothing terrible, but the other stadiums go all-out visually while this one is just there for the sports.
Best Fans – Ricky Henderson Field at Oakland Coliseum (Athletics)
Sure, many of them seemed like grifters upon entering the gate, with three fans and a fourth child offering me five dollars for my collectable bobble head while blatantly holding a giant bag of them, giving away their obvious resale intentions. But once I got through the piss-flavored concrete and back into the sun, the atmosphere was special in a way that only good sports fans can create. They have a bit of an underdog, blue-collar feel, fighting back against the stuck-up, rich overlords of the bay (to them), the San Francisco Giants. Yet they also actively participate in the family atmosphere that the organization goes to great lengths to project throughout the game. And sure, I had a pleasant experience at the Dodgers game and have gone from hating them to respecting them, but I’m not foolish enough to assume Los Angeles hasn’t largely earned its shitty sports reputation. Therefore, this honor goes to the A’s fans.
Worst Fans – Angels. It’s hard to say much about a fanbase that doesn’t show up. To the douchebag that didn’t like that I was in front of him on a crowded escalator, enjoy whatever shallow existence you mistake for a life. (Actually, don’t do that. I hope you find true happiness and learn to love other people.)
Best Food – Oracle Park (Giants)
That damn crab sandwich. I can’t deny its glory. It’s the clear winner here. Honorable mention, however, goes to the Padres’ Petco Park. If you’re ever there, check out Phil’s Barbeque, and enjoy eating it while sitting.
Worst Food: Dodgers. The Dodger Dog is a lukewarm letdown.
Best Concourse – Petco Park (Padres)
This isn’t to take anything away from the other parks, nearly all of which are very nice. But the way this place is set up before you even get to the ballfield is so cool. I hope I get to go back and see it when the Padres are playing a team that isn’t the Cubs, so I can appreciate it even more.
Worst Concourse: Oakland Coliseum. Because, well, it’s the Oakland Coliseum.
Best Ballpark Staff – Angel Stadium (Angels)
The coolest usher, the friendliest concessions folks. Even the guy trying to swindle me into subscribing to the LA Times was pretty nice about it. Once again, honorable mention to the Padres and the guy that made a special trip to grab the blue souvenir cup for me instead of the brown ones they had ready to go.
Worse Staff – I actually don’t know. I didn’t think about the negative side of this one. Let’s just say the Giants.
Best Area Before Entering Stadium Gates – Dodger Stadium
The oversized bobbleheads, the Vin Scully monuments, the easily accessible team store for actual fans, it’s all good fun. But that Jackie Robinson monument, man. What a humbling, inspiring site. Unless you’re a hateful racist asshole.
Worst: Oakland. It’s just a giant parking lot. At least you can be adopted into a family of seagulls if your car doesn’t work for long enough after the game.
Easiest Stadium To Get To – Oracle Park (Giants)
It’s easy to find and easy to get to. San Francisco public transportation, Lyft drivers, or even just walking brings you seamlessly to a ballpark that’s just part of a big city block. Plus, there’s a hobo clown with a bubble machine. That’s pretty fun. (I hope he’s okay.)
Worst – Dodger Stadium. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a cool walk up to the stadium, but it’s a pain in the ass to get there, and to leave once you’re done ogling the stadium from the parking lot.
Best Player – Manny Machado
This means the best player that I saw play on this trip. But this has nothing to do with his performance on the field. Down to earth Manny is a solid human. I’m a fan.
Worst Player: Mike Trout. You can’t wait one more day to remove some shit from your foot? Come on, man. This is about me, not you.
Best Overall Experience (Suggested) – Dodger Stadium
If you’re a baseball fan, a casual fan, or just an alcoholic hanging out with friends in Los Angeles looking for a new place to drink, I can’t recommend highly enough that you check out Dodger Stadium. The history, the view, and (usually) the quality of baseball are all excellent. The little tributes to the legendary commentator Vin Scully are heartwarming even to the most anti-Los Angeles baseball fan. The weather is almost guaranteed to be gorgeous. For a while, I couldn’t believe I said this, but I’m saying it again with confidence: Dodger Stadium was the best California ballpark.
Honestly, though, all of these ballparks have something to offer. If may or may not care about baseball but want a beautiful view if you’re around it, check out the Giants at Oracle Park. If you want a ballpark that’s super cool and fun to walk around, go to San Diego. If you can appreciate a passionate fanbase that appreciates their team, try visiting Oakland (I say “try,” because there’s no other reason to go to the city of Oakland).
Several of these parks have great views, fun and easy concourses to check out, history, goofy displays, good facilities, and any number of other reasons to visit, even if you’re not that much into baseball. If you’re in California, I implore you, please, get a cheap ticket and check these ballparks out. You might see something cool. You might meet someone new. You may gain some great stories to tell.
If you’re like me, though, you may learn some things about the way you view people, and maybe you’ll carry those lessons with you in your bucket while you chew away at your list.
Or chew away at the bucket. I don’t fucking know.
Guest writer Mike Whildin is a writer, comedian, and baseball fan.