Baseball with the Doc

I’ve had a wonderful long weekend hanging out with Doc Rock, who was visiting from points south. After an intense two weeks getting a 500-page report off my desk, it was fun to have time with a friend. We visited my mother in Bodega Bay, where it was sunny and gorgeous (it’s usually foggy and drippy).

This morning we headed south to San Francisco and the Doc’s first visit to SBC Park. We had seats just behind home plate way high in the nosebleeds—we could see the Berkeley campanile from our spot—and watched a very, very good game which unfortunately went to the Cubs, but you can’t begrudge them, it was riveting baseball, a true pitchers’ duel.

One of my least favorite things about this ball park, surely the most beautiful in the country, is that most people who are there have only the vaguest interest in the game. They spend time yakking about their work, or getting up and down like yoyos for this drink or that food. It makes scoring a little difficult and I was finally obliged to ask the woman in front who seemed to have brought her entire family reunion to the game—there were 30 cousins there—whether she might like to consider sitting down so I could see the game.

Yoyos.