I like my hotdogs with a lot of ketchup and a touch of yellow mustard. Hotdogs, oddly enough, happen to be one of the reasons why I love baseball so much. They are part of the atmosphere that uniquely belongs to baseball. The stands are full of cheering fans shelling peanuts and sipping light beer from plastic cups. There's always some obnoxious beat sounding over the loud speaker. Home team paraphernalia is worn proudly and the game is America's past-time. It's part of our history and it's awesome.
On Sunday we sat along the third baseline in the second row with friends Zach and Andrea watching the last game of the Tigers 2014 season. I had a hotdog, of course while Jeff enjoyed a few Michigan craft beers - I'd take a hotdog over a beer any day. And Andrea tried her very best to convince Zach to buy her a giant foam finger which was all way too entertaining.
Sadly, the Tigers lost 2-1 to the Orioles. The game wasn't all that eventful except for in the 9th when the Tigers made a rally for it. Just as we stepped out of the stadium the crowd went wild and Jeff reacted by bringing up the radio broadcast on his phone. Had we left too soon?! But as we drove out of the parking lot the Tigers fate was sealed and their chance at being the 2014 World Series Champs over.
We strolled back through our door at home around 10:30pm, dog tired from sitting in the car for 2.5 hours - why does riding in a car always make you so tired?
We had played all weekend with family and friends at different events. Laundry was still dirty, the refrigerator vacant of food and the bathroom desperately needed to be cleaned. But we both agreed, chores could wait. We crawled into bed and I said to Jeff, "Well the game might have stunk, but that hotdog was well worth the drive."