Some friends of ours gave us tickets to the Rangers-Mariners game Monday night. It was a perfect night for baseball – a nice breeze, temp in the mid-70s, a few clouds. In elementary school and junior high I followed baseball closely, especially the Rangers and my hero Nolan Ryan. I remember being really upset one night in 4th or 5th grade because I had all this math homework to do and couldn’t watch the game with Mom and a cup of Blue Bunny strawberry frozen yogurt. I read two or three of his books plus his wife’s book, and even met his wife at a Christian bookstore one afternoon. After Nolan retired, my interest gradually waned. Before last night, I hadn’t even been to a Rangers game in a few years. We had a great time once again sitting in the Ballpark, which I am THRILLED to note is now named Rangers Ballpark in Arlington – not Ameriquest Field or some other lame name chosen by a company who paid millions for the naming rights. Stadiums should be named after people, places, or teams, not companies. Anyway, two Rangers homered while we were there, setting off fireworks and the wonderful theme song from The Natural. Hecklers, cheeseburgers, Dot Race tickets, The Wave, kid-sized baseball gloves, and overpriced Cokes all made an appearance. As a sign that I’m truly a grown-up now, I was actually more focused on talking with our friends about our children than on the game itself. I’ve never discussed pediatricians at a sporting event before. When they left in the 4th inning to take their tired and fussy baby home, it didn’t seem weird, especially since we waddled out in the 5th so Jenny could get to bed and I could go to work. I wondered whether Brenden would be a baseball fan or even a player someday, imagining myself at a tiny Little League field watching him play shortstop. The Rangers’ ad agency was right – I could use some baseball.