I never received the email to get my Opening Day tickets. It was six days before Opening Day (last Tuesday for those keeping count) and I was still patiently awaiting my invitation to my favorite party of the year.
“They should have sent that out by now,” my mom said.
“I know, I’ve checked my email and spam folder and everything and I’ve got nothing,” I replied. “Maybe I’ll give it one more day.” I knew Bird – that’s my mom, Robin – wanted to go. No one loves Opening Day like her. Orioles or Ravens, she loves an Opening Day. But she went last year. This year was not her turn.
“You should just email now and see,” she said.
“Fine.” I did, just then, that very night at 8:30p.m. My account manager, who is lovely and never does me wrong, wrote me back in 20 minutes:
“Call me tomorrow,” was the answer. “I’ll set you up.”
I secured my tickets and a date (my sister, Lindsey) the next morning. Lindsey had season tickets the last two years with her husband Russ, but decided not to renew this year, instead investing all that money in a trip to Europe.
Our family has always celebrated Orioles Opening Day, taking the day off work (or at least a short day). We have always gone or been somewhere watching it. When I first got my season tickets in 2011, all of us went because I could get the tickets dues to low interest but in the years since the team started winning more and making the post season, my ticket allowance for Opening Day seats dropped from four to two. I had to alternate between family members since I didn’t have a permanent “plus 1” to speak of. Dad went first, then Bird, now Lindsey.
She and I will get downtown early, get something to eat and drink a few beers, then head into the Park with all the other Orioles faithful fans. We’ll all make sports talk with each other crossing Howard St. about how great this year will be and how potent the lineup is. “But the pitching…” will always be the postscript.
Ownership spent the offseason chasing Chris Davis, seemingly lost him, then snared him for seven years and the most money in Orioles history. I’m grateful, for the record. Davis’ bat and persona does as much for this team as Adam Jones (and that’s saying a lot). But today, all of us believe he’ll hit 56 home runs and never get hurt. Same for Jones.
I get my bag checked and Lindsey and I find our way to the escalator for the upper decks. My season tickets are in section 84, but today we’re in 322. As we ascend I can hear the din and feel the vibration of the lower bowl. Rivers of people in orange and black ebb and flow (pass each other of the right!) and rampart screams of “LET’S GO O’S” echoes.
Everyone is in such a great mood, like this is their first day outside since the historic snowfall in January. Anything can happen. We could win the pennant. This lineup…
We make it to our seats just in time for the National Anthem and take our hats off. Lindsey and I are unapologetically pro-“O” when it comes to the Anthem, no matter where you are (if appropriate). The rest of the sellout crowd gives the same sound, a way to distinguish Baltimorians from non-Baltimorians around the globe. It’s one of my favorite things as a Baltimore born person.
I sit down, awaiting that first pitch and that first step into baseball season.
We’re all wishing the same wish, hoping the same hope:
“Please, just win Baltimore a Championship.”
Everything starts now…
2 Responses
“Everyone is in such a great mood, like this is their first day outside since the historic snowfall in January. Anything can happen.” — great analogy!!
Great article and yes I am jealous I am not going to the game. Hope everyone has a great time and let’s get a win today! GO Oooooooooooooooooo’S!