Last night I took my Dad and Tiffany to Camden Yards in Baltimore for the O's/Brewers game that was to start about 7. Our seats were three rows back from the outfield wall in the left field corner, just inside the foul pole. We got there just as the game was beginning, I struggled to get all of the names in my scorecard, right as it began to rain. They'd finished one batter as the heavens were riven open and rain began to pour. The delay was over an hour and the three of us sat under the overhang, watching the Miracle on 33rd St. and the history of Memorial Stadium on the many tv's strung up under the balcony.

The rain was heavy, large thick drops plummeting from the sky, creating small rivers in the aisles, a series of tiny waterfalls on the steps. The rain would go from heavy to light back to heavy again, interspersed with the amplified kettle-drum of thunder and the flash of lighting in the city. They crowded all of us under the overhangs, creating a ring of unhappy baseball fans lying in wait for the storm's abatement.

After about an hour we got the all-clear and enjoyed a few more innings of baseball before the rain struck yet again sending us through the downpour back to the car, but we got to see some baseball, enjoy the atmosphere of the Yards, and have hotdogs and as my Dad said "A day at the ballpark, even when it's raining is better than a day almost anywhere else." He's right.

The roar of thunder against the warehouse and resounding through the stadium, the taste of soft grilled onions and hotdogs on your tongue, and the smell of peanuts and sizzling meat on the grills in center field, that is a wonderous thing. Happy Father's Day, Dad!
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