The first time I went to a minor league baseball game, I was ten million months pregnant, living in temporary housing in an unfamiliar city, and seeeeriously unexcited about spending a couple of hours parked on a hard bench watching other people drink beer (although I was very much excited about the garlic fries situation). Let's just say Kendrick had to do some convincing.
Flash forward two years, and I'm the one googling the San Jose Giants' schedule to make sure we get to a game or two every year, because let me tell you: minor league games are fun. They're all the good parts of major league games (hot dogs, beer in plastic cups, generalized camaraderie, possibly fireworks, et cetera et cetera) except hot dogs aren't eighteen dollars, the parking is across the street, not twenty miles and a shuttle bus away, and there are bouncy castles. With no lines, so your children can actually bounce on them. You just park, walk across the street, bounce a bunch, whack a few whiffleballs, grab some food, and go sit down wherever...because there is plenty of room.
Basically, going to a minor league baseball game feels like making a friend who really likes you and wants you to like them back, as opposed to trying to get to know that kid who's way popular and unattainable and such, and who you have to put a bunch of work into getting to know before you get to get to the part where you have fun.
