Field of Dreams

**WARNING** This is another "baseball, not kvetch"-related post. You have been warned.

We all hope for moments in life to justify the decisions we make. You want that new job to fulfill you more, even though it pays less. You hope the crazy color you painted your walls complements your eclectic furniture. You pray that the test comes back negative after the fun but possibly calamitous "accident."

And you hope that years of slavish (and continually mocked) devotion to a slow-moving sport will pay off eventually with one moment of bliss.

Last night was my moment.

When the Montreal Expos, the Jamaican Bobsled Team of Major League Baseball, moved to Washington, the city was excited. When the DC Council, after much recrimination and backbiting, approved the construction of a new baseball stadium, there was both excitement and dismay at the cost of a stadium in a city whose schools were crumbling. But last night, there was total joy, at least for those hardy few of us present at newly-christened Nationals Park.

When tickets for the first game at the new stadium went on sale, I had two computers and my phone working feverishly to get tickets. Alas, it was not to be. Scalped tickets on StubHub were going for 15-50 times face value. Not gonna happen. But then my wonderful cousin, with her back-alley ties, managed to get us tickets for a high, but not too unreasonable price. And my wonderful wife told me to go for it.

It was oold. The lines for hot chocolate and coffee were atrocious. But after a really remarkable half-pound hamburger (Grays Grill behind the scoreboard) we settled in to watch baseball in My Personal Mecca. And the Nationals did not disappoint.

Baseball is well-known for being slow-moving and often incomprehensible. But there are moments when even the novice fan can somehow feel the tension and excitement of a key situation. With the score tied at 2 in the bottom of the last inning, the moment that justified my decision to spend an exorbitant amount of money to sit in the cold on a late-March night, came to pass.

The crack of the bat was like a rifle shot. I didn't think the ball had the distance. But the first Home Run for the Nationals in their new stadium was the game-winner, hit by the face of the franchise, Ryan Zimmerman. I don't think anybody breathed for a moment, and suddenly I found myself jumping up and down and screaming in pure orgasmic bliss. My wife was crying. A walk-off home run, in the first game in the new stadium, agaisnt a powerful team, on national television. It was the perfect moment, and one I'm sure I will remember for the rest of my life.

I'm not ashamed to admit it. I love baseball, and last night was why.