BASEBALL!

“A hot dog at the ballgame beats roast beef at the Ritz." ~Humphrey Bogart

It’s finally here! Whether you go for the $1 beer, the sumo-wrestling in between innings or for the love of the game, the Joe is the place to be when the temperature starts to rise.

And what’s not to love? Peanuts, beer, friends, girls showing off their brand-new tan lines in the stands… Americana.

It is a sign that many count on every year- a sign that we can finally put those space-bags we bought from the commercial to good use and store away those sweaters (WOW 20 in one bag!). It’s time for shorts and sunscreen, NOT jackets and hot chocolate. For flip-flops and toe-rings, NOT boots and wool socks.

I don’t know the first thing about baseball. I know there are 9 innings, but sometimes there isn’t, right? I grew up playing basketball-- I’m used to a scoreboard that doesn’t have much to it, so I have a hard time following the stats. I get really nervous every time the ball or bat flies up toward the stands because a history of bad luck makes me think it’s coming for my face every time. But yes, I love it.

If nothing else, I love to watch the sunset. The Ashley reflects the pink and purple and orange of the low country twilight and my heart melts. The green of the field becomes deeper. The temperature drops just enough to cool the crowd. The kids jump into a plastic pool of grits. I love this place.

I can’t wait to get sun burnt and have raccoon eyes after the first day game. I can’t wait to eat my first Dixie Dog of the year and use 15 napkins to sop up the chili and pimento cheese. I can’t wait to stand in line for the ATM. I can’t wait to see that announcer with the curly mullet, and I cannot wait to meet my friends at the Joe.