It was a perfect Friday evening, and I was enjoying the gentle breeze that was starting to cool off what had been for me, a native to Philly, a blistering hot day. The sun was shining as we started our slow drive down into the city. You see, my aunt and uncle had decided that my Philly experience would not be complete without a Phillies baseball game. Now, unlike our sad Toronto Blue Jays team, people in Philly are completely passionate about the Phillies. This passion for their team and baseball results in almost every game being completely sold out, including pre-season games. We are talking over 42,000 fans come out to Citizens Bank Park to root on their team. There are no $1.00 tickets and free hot dogs here, it is serious business.
To avoid a heart attack induced by stadium food, we stopped for supper at a fantastic Mediterranean place in South Philly before heading over to the game. I need to tell you that Citizens Bank Park is incredible; not only is it beautifully laid out, and very new, but they also have real grass on their field that is perfectly maintained.
Amidst a sea of red shirts and crazy Phillies fans we made our way to our seats only to find out that we were 25 rows from home plate and directly across from the jumbo screen. Just to give you an idea of how good these seats actually were, the pitcher's brother, wife, and baby, along with a chick who had been on survivor 3 times and is now dating another one of the pitchers were all sitting across the aisle from us.
We settled in for what turned out to be a fantastic game. The Phillies were beating the Boston Red Sox, the seats were amazing, and the weather was great; it was a perfect night. That was until, our new seat mate arrived. We were a couple of innings into the game before Ron appeared. I don’t know his real name, but Ron seems to fit. We were in the midst of enthusiastically cheering for our team when a shadow loomed over us. We looked up to see Ron standing there; all 400 + pounds of him. I think at that moment Erin was wishing she had picked a different ticket number and hadn’t ended up in the seat at the end. Ron lumbered past us with his coke bottle and hand-held radio before he plopped down next to Erin almost suffocating her. After her polite requests to remove his coat from across her seat, she adjusted her seating pattern to include an upper body twist and lean as far as possible over my way so as not to be smothered by Ron.
Completely oblivious to the obvious discomfort he was causing, Ron sprawled himself out over the two seats on either side of him, and started to personally coach the team by using signals and hand gestures, along with yelling of course. Now, I’m not the most brilliant person who ever lived, but I am pretty sure that the team (even though they were 25 rows away) couldn’t hear his instructions on when to run, when to stay, how to hit, and when to steal a base. Then again, maybe I am just naive and they were depending on Ron’s coaching to win the game. Whatever the case, he felt it was completely appropriate to yell these instructions loudly while holding his radio up to his ear.
Now I get that the whole baseball experience includes the entertainment of various fans. I understand that people are passionate and enjoy being armchair players, but I do think there should be some consideration for the people next to you, especially when you are 400 + pounds. I know you aren’t going to fit nicely in your seat, but there is a difference between trying to make yourself as small as possible, and just sprawling all over like you own the place. Or maybe I’m too Canadian.
Well I was ready to chalk it up to an unfortunate addition to our seating plan, and continued enjoying the game. That was until in the last 15 minutes of the game I heard a small gasp from Erin. As I turned towards Erin I noticed that we seemed to be caught in a sudden snow storm that was descending on our section of the stadium. Puzzled, I looked closer only to see that Ron had decided that scratching his arm like a maniac for a solid minute would be the most socially friendly thing he could do in a crowded stadium. It wasn’t snow; it was Ron’s dead skin floating through the air and landing all over Erin, and partly on me. I am not even joking. It was all over the seats in front of us, and all up the side of Erin and partly on me.
Even as I write that, I think I threw up in my mouth. Disgusting is the understatement of the century.
Despite our less than desirable company, I enjoyed the game and my first Phillies experience. Hopefully any future games will exclude Ron from being our seat mate.
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