Raising Boys of Summer

I’m a baseball guy. I’d love my son to be one, too. , we’re off to a good start. He watched the ’09 World Series with remarkable focus (until whisked to bed in his "Crankee" pajamas). He hit off a plastic tee in our living room all last winter, except when I pitched to him. For the sake of the furnishings, we’ve now switched to an imaginary ball and running imaginary bases.

As he grows up, this can go two directions: either he’ll get tired of it before he’s old enough for Little League, or he’ll have four fantasy baseball teams before he’s tall enough for a real water slide. I have to be content with either outcome, but I want that choice to be shaped by more than play. The apex of the baseball fan experience is to attend a live professional game.

Time and money conspire against this goal. It’s at least a 90 minute drive to see the Orioles at Camden Yards. Crossing the bridges to get to Nationals Park on the Anacostia waterfront is a similar investment. And for most young families, cash raises the stakes. When we took our son to his first Nats game last summer, we didn’t know how much he’d get out of it. After two crawling hours on Metro, the $5 weeknight special tickets were long gone. We paid $20 apiece to sit in the second deck of the outfield, 400 feet from home plate. We tried to interpret the action, but couldn’t even convince him there was a ball game going on below him. All he saw was the people in our sections, who were somehow entertainment enough to preserve his peace.

After that experience, I resolved to wait a few years. The $60 seats might have done it, but at that price I could get a high def TV with MLB Extra Innings after just a few games. Being new to Prince William County, I hadn’t noticed that we have our own franchise in Woodbridge.

Minor league baseball may not have the star power or the excitement of 40,000 people, but it has its moments. I went to dozens of low-A ball games as a kid in Western NY, where people still talk about Randy Johnson. Our own P-Nats nearly got a shot at baseball’s current #1 phenom this summer, but Bryce Harper was . Regardless how memorable the names of the players, a small park is a great place for a kid. Open bleacher seating leaves plenty of room to roam and chase foul balls. You’re close enough to the bullpen to count the stitches on their uniforms, close enough to home plate that your eight year old self vicariously throws a strike on each pitch.

Even with concessions, a P-Nats game is cheaper than a movie. It’s 10 minutes from Dale City and 15 minutes from Manassas. My son kicked off his first game by running the bases (on the softball fields outside the stadium). He could tell when someone was at bat, and occasionally where the ball was hit. When he was tired of sitting (every five minutes), we got down and walked around with one eye on the game. Best of all, we didn’t have to listen to Joe Buck and Tim McCarver.

If my little baseball fan plays for himself, I hope he’ll learn from watching the live action. He’ll learn that technique matters as much as talent, that strategy can feel more like poker than math, and that big moments are as much fun to watch as to create. The big leagues can wait until he asks to go.