DOG DAY AFTERNOON

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (08-03-23)

 

     Every home Sunday during the summer, the Hudson Valley High-A professional baseball team hosts a game that dogs are allowed to attend. We took Gidget, the cutest dog in the world, to her first nine innings, and I must admit, she seemed pretty underwhelmed by the experience. Believe me, if they tried this trick at the U.S. Open all hell would break loose with that many tennis balls flying around. Have you ever tried to hit a tennis ball that a Labrador just retrieved? "You said you were going to serve them and I was able to fit three servings in my mouth."

     The day was a little hot for dogs and after a few innings she wanted to go home. I told her in order to do that she'll have to get on base, steal second, wait for a wild pitch and go home on an error. Besides, what older tradition is there than a hot dog at a ball game? By late afternoon it cooled off, and she started to enjoy the attention. Gidget is tolerant of preschoolers, impartial to other dogs and attractive to cats. What she really wanted to do was make friends with whatever was living near the dumpsters behind the stands. I said, Gidget, what kind of friendship would that be? First of all you're going to have to jump all the way up into that garbage bin, and when you get there I know you and you won't like the food. How is it going to feel to be dumped by a someone who lives in a dumpster?

     The players on the field are two rungs of the ladder away from playing in the big leagues. And even though the game is played exactly the same way, there are some innovations that could smooth the transition to the majors. For instance, whenever there's a two strike count, a train whistle sounds and everyone stomps their feet on the metal bleachers, and it sounds exactly like the number 4 subway that goes by Yankee Stadium, only it stops on schedule. There isn't very much offensive language directed at the players, so they'll need to practice their defensive language on their own time. There was some barking at the umpire, but that was mostly by the dogs. But if you pay attention you may see some players on the way up. You may see them on the way back down. If there were any scouts in attendance, surely they would have offered Gidget a modelling contract by now. 

     There's a lot going on in-between innings. There are all sorts of games of skill and chance, designed to let the announcer make fun of you. If you've ever had a sadistic camp counselor, you'll know what I'm talking about. There were hula hoops, frisbees, pool floats, traffic cones, but no matter if you won or lost, you were somehow going to get soaked with water. 

     I used the time to bond with Gidget, and we chatted about some of the paradoxes of the game, like why do they call them "stands" when you sit in them, and why do they call them "innings" when they contain outs, and why do you sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" when you're already there, and does foul territory smell any worse? I had some more things to discuss but I couldn't hear myself over her snoring.

     The theme of the day was "Christmas in July," so we were awash with caroling, Santa beards, candy canes and reindeer antlers. It seems to me that if Christmas in December isn't sufficient to get the job done, we're not doing it correctly. My birthday is on Christmas Day, and still, I'm over it by Halloween. By the way, I didn't hear any talk of "Birthday Presents in July." I'm starting a movement right now called, "4th of July in December," and we can have fireworks, barbecues and 78-degree weather.

     In-between innings were more contests and exhibitions. A gal stood on top of the dugout and was lip-syncing a Taylor Swift song at a stadium, just like Taylor Swift does. There were mascots dressed up as raccoons, skunks and mosquitos, I'm not entirely sure why. It is a farm team after all, so I guess it shouldn't be that surprising. The atmosphere was like Times Square, a street fair, a circus and a birthday party all rolled into one. Gidget slept through most of it. 

     Eventually I remembered that there was a game going on- the home team didn't win due to an implosion of the bullpen. It certainly wouldn't have happened if Gidget were pitching. She is a southpaw, northpaw, eastpaw and westpaw, depending on which direction the mound faces. But no matter the score, with dogs, sunshine and baseball, how can you lose?