A relaxing day at the ballpark

It came to pass, through a series of circumstances, that I spent my Father’s Day afternoon alone, at least in a figurative sense. Left to my own devices, I headed to Arvest Ballpark in Springdale to take in a matinee ballgame, putting faith in my weather app’s promise that despite threatening skies there would be no rain.

As it turned out, the weather app was true to its pledge. There wasn’t a drop of precipitation, even if the occasional strong breeze did make it feel almost cold at times.

I love baseball, but I don’t take advantage often enough of the opportunity to take in a minor-league game just an hour from home. Of course, the Northwest Arkansas Naturals aren’t my beloved Chicago Cubs and Arvest Ballpark isn’t Wrigley Field.

But try getting a seat six rows behind home plate at Wrigley for $15 and see how that works out for you. Or a hot dog and bottle of water for $5.75. One tip on that: Do not hand the concession stand worker a $20 bill and a $1 bill to make it easier to make change. The young man looked at me as if I had four heads and shook his head slightly as he handed me back the $1 bill — and four more — along with a 10 and a quarter. Math is hard.

But the hot dog was passable with mustard and relish, and the water was refreshing.

As I said, my seat was just a few rows back of home plate. The temperature was in the low 70s, and it was a competitive ballgame.

I also had the honor of sitting just a few seats down from a gentleman who apparently is one of the great geniuses in baseball history. He knew what to do in every situation, from intentionally walking the potential go-ahead run with two out to “set up the double play” to admonishing the professional baseball players on the actual diamond not to “let the ball play you.” I’m sure some of those guys took the coaching to heart and are much better players today.

As it turns out, this guy wasn’t just the reincarnation of Casey Stengel, however. Why, he once had an on-base percentage of .625! I know this now, as does everyone in the three adjacent sections. Later, after Casey yelled “can of corn” on a high fly ball, he was kind enough to explain to us all the origin of that expression. Who knew?

Casey made quite an impression on some fans seated around him — almost as if that were his goal, to impress. One young lady remarked that he should have “gone pro.”

“I almost did,” he replied. “I almost did.” Clearly, some scout somewhere made a grievous mistake. I worry that on-base percentages have suffered for it and that an entire generation of ballplayers let the ball play them and remained totally ignorant to the meaning of “can of corn.”

I almost dunked a basketball once. I almost did.

Casey left midway through the eighth inning, even though the game was still close. He squeezed past in front of my seat but somehow I resisted the urge to ask for an autograph.

I seem to run into these experts a lot at sporting events. I remember a few years ago I was watching the Arkansas-Missouri football game on a restaurant patio in Little Rock when a Missouri running back broke free and ran about 60 yards for a touchdown. That prompted a fan at the next table to yell a profane remark about Brandon Allen, the Arkansas quarterback who I’m pretty sure never played a single down on defense. It might have been the same guy at a local high school game who — after the quarterback took a snap from center and dropped back five steps — began screaming “pass” at the top of his lungs. What was your first clue, Sherlock?

I know this all may sound just a little bit grumpy. So, let me close this on a positive note: As I said, it didn’t rain and the hot dog wasnt’t awful.

••• Scott Loftis is editor and publisher of the Carroll County News. His email address is SLoftis@CarrollCoNews.com.