WASHINGTON, DC -- Growing up near Cincinnati, Ohio, in the 1970s, I started playing Little League baseball at the age of seven. I was also a big fan of the Big Red Machine, arguably one of the best major league teams to ever play the game. Throughout that decade, I continued to live and play the game I loved, playing, at one point, for two different teams in different districts. I also played my junior and senior years in high school, then played one year of college ball. As a 19-year-old left handed pitcher, I was scouted by the Indians, but ended up blowing out my arm during the season, ending my baseball career.
As time went on, I gradually lost interest in the game, mainly because of the escalating salaries, the "look at me" attitude of the players, the World Series that never was, and more recently, because of the drug and steroid scandals by the players.
I hadn't gone to a major league game since the mid-1990s. When I looked at the Washington Nationals' 2008 schedule, I discovered the Reds were coming to town in August, so I thought, why not take in a game. I also thought it'd be a fun experience for my friend, Yiqiao Wang, to go with me. After all, she'd never seen a baseball game in her life, yet alone stepped foot in a baseball park.
I've known Yiqiao since 2005 when both of us moved to Washington, she as a first-year student at Gallaudet University, and me as a writer for the deaf education center on campus. When I learned later that she had flown in from her home in Beijing within a week of the time I arrived to start my new job, I thought it fascinating how two people, living 15,000 miles apart and among billions of others, somehow met one another months later on campus.
When I asked Yiqiao if she'd like to go to a baseball game with me, she agreed to go. After ordering our $10 dollar nosebleed tickets online two weeks before the game, the big day finally arrived. I rode the Metro to the ballpark and we met up. But things got off to an interesting start because, just as we entered Nationals Park, a heavy downpour arrived. Thankfully, a resourceful Yiqiao brought an umbrella with her and we waited out the rain.
After the gates opened, and by the time we reached the upper deck to our seats, the sun came out. We put newspapers - another resourceful item found in Yiqiao's handbag - on our wet seats and took in the beauty of the new stadium. We talked for a while, watched batting practice, then went down to get something to eat. Yiqiao was amazed at the food prices - her chicken tenders, fries, and Coke, and my cheeseburger, fries, and Coke set me back $31 dollars, or about $210 Chinese Yuan.
After eating, I thought it would be a good time, just before the game, to explain the rules of baseball to Yiqiao. As I talked more about what balls, strikes, and errors were, that a hit is good but a run is a "point," that you get four balls but only three strikes, and if you foul a pitch, you get another chance - but still have only two strikes - it brought back memories of why I loved the game of baseball during my youth.
Yiqiao was an eager learner and she asked me some fascinating questions about the game. One question I thought intriguing was, "Why do they show the errors on the scoreboard? Do they have anything to do with the outcome of the game?" I explained that errors don't always determine the outcome, but sometimes they do. Ironically for us, errors did play a deciding role in the game we watched, which the Nationals won 10-6.
I enjoyed taking in the interesting little moments that night. After a pitch, Yiqiao would move her hand in the "strike" gesture, then look up to the scoreboard to confirm the pitch was a strike. Later, one of the players hit the ball to an infielder, who bobbled it, then made a late throw to first base. "That's an error," I replied.
Later in the game, this happened again, but the fielder was able to recover and make the out. Yiqiao looked at the scoreboard; when the error display remained the same, she looked over at me, puzzled. "I thought that was an error," she said. "It's only an error when the fielder allows the runner to get on base," I replied. She looked down at the field, then back at me. "Baseball has a lot of rules," she said.
Around the 6th inning, we went down to get ice cream and some water. Again, Yiqiao was shocked at the price - $8 dollars for a small bowl of Italian gelato, and another $8 dollars for two bottles of water. "It's very expensive to come to a baseball game," she said.
Yiqiao decided from the start that she was a Nationals fan and was rooting against Cincinnati. She asked me who I was rooting for. I told her that I used to love the Reds, but now I'm here just to enjoy the evening.
Whenever I talked about the Reds, she had difficulty remembering how to spell the visiting team's home city. "C-Y-N...I give up," she said. "Who thought of that name?" I didn't have the heart to explain that many years ago, the city used to be called Losantiville.
I helped her figure out a way to make it easier to remember and spell the city's name. "Remember it this way," I replied. "C-I-N...then start over...C-I-N...stop...then N-A-T-I." Later, as we watched the closing innings of the game, I noticed she was fingerspelling "Cincinnati" over and over again, so it would sink in. A few minutes later, she looked at me. "I got it now
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C-I-N-C-I-N-N-A-T-I!"
After fireworks celebrating the Nats' victory, we headed for the Metro station, boarding the Green line to L'Enfant Plaza. We said our good-byes and I boarded my train. As the cars began to move, Yiqiao waved, then disappeared into the crowd.
