It was a gift of an August day in Washington—82, breezy, and low humidity at 11:45 this morning when Mackenzie Gore threw the first pitch of the Nats-Angels game. We were up in the third tier, right above the first baseline, with a clear view of the plate and our free jerseys in hand.
The park was nearly empty, and not even the organist was playing. It might have been that this is a prime vacation week in this town, our team is out of playoff contention, or most of the starters were second-string. Whatever the cause, we enjoyed practically having the section to ourselves as we watched the game progress. It was scoreless until the top of the fourth when the Angels put five runs on the board.
When the Nats could not answer them for a couple innings more, Heidi grew disgusted and went off in search of water and popcorn. She missed seeing LA bring it to 6-0 in the seventh, which was probably just as well. There was a rally in the 8th; the home team scored 2 and had the tying run at the plate with the bases loaded. Improbably, the same scenario occurred in the bottom of the ninth. The Nats had a real chance to tie or even win, but the game ended abruptly at 6-4 after the Angels turned a double play.
We were filing out with the rest of the light crowd when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Three of my 6th graders from last year folded me into a big hug. We spent a happy few minutes catching up and basking in our mini-reunion before we went our separate ways.
"Now, that was a great day at the ballpark!" I told Heidi.
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