O P I N I O N

NOT THAT PROFOUND

By Nate Graziano

While I’ve never been one to gush over the weather, much preferring the dank basement to the great outdoors, last Sunday was an objectively idyllic afternoon to watch live baseball.

The sun was shining, the sky a bright cerulean blue with brushstrokes of white clouds. It was hovering around 75 degrees with a light breeze as my buddy Brian and I found our seats and awaited the first pitch at 12:05 p.m.

It was one of those idyllic days for baseball at Delta Dental Stadium. Photo by Nate Mapplethorpe.

The New Hampshire Fisher Cats were slated to play a doubleheader against the Reading Fightin Phils at Delta Dental Stadium, two seven inning games, back-to-back, and I had my scorecard in front of me in our right field seats, ready to take in an afternoon of America’s great pastime.

It was also Foster Care Appreciation Day at the stadium, which simultaneously made my heart heavy and light. In a world littered with false idols, it was good to see some really decent people receive the recognition they deserve.

There was only one thing missing from this Platonic picture of perfection, and Brian was already on it.

I’m talking, of course, about “the ballpark beer.”

As a beer drinker—note: I didn’t say “beer connoisseur” because I tend to avoid craft beers in favor of domestic light beer, a personal preference that makes many beer enthusiasts cringe—there are certain situational beers that stand well above the common can of brew.

For example, a cold beer after mowing the lawn in the summer is an exceptional one. The first round on Friday afternoon after a long week of work is another notable selection.

Nothing beats a beer at the ballpark. Photo by Nate Mapplethorpe.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, beats the ballpark beer on a warm afternoon.

When Brian returned to our seats with two tall boys of Bud Light and handed one to me, my eyes misted over. Luckily, I brought a pair of sunglasses. “It’s beautiful,” I said.

Brian looked up at the sky. “It is a perfect day for baseball,” he said.

“I meant the beer.”

Of course, all of this transcends the drink itself, and you can feel free to substitute the beer with your own beverage of choice, but being at the ballpark on day like that, sharing a drink and a baseball game with a friend on an impeccable afternoon in the spring made all of the heaviness that has surrounded us lately disappear for a few precious hours.

The Fisher Cats won the first game of the double-header 2-0, which included one of the single greatest catches I’ve ever seen in a live game by the Fisher Cats left fielder Jay Harry, a play that made it on ESPN’s SportsCenter Top Ten plays of the day on Sunday.

In between games, the Fisher Cats onfield emcee, as well as the new Assistant GM, Andrew Marais, somehow used his Spider Man super-vision to spot me in the right field bleachers and solicited me to start The Wave at the stadium.

While I’m generally a conscientious objector to The Wave, I complied. It was all right. Everything was all right. I had my ballpark beer and baseball on a beautiful day in Manchester.

And, for once, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be.