Editor’s Note: My friend Jeremy Ball, along with his father and son, recently completed their annual baseball trip, an adventure that took them to Seattle, San Francisco and Sacramento. I asked Jeremy to write about the experience, and why the Balls are compelled to travel across the country each summer to watch baseball. Here is Jeremy’s report:
By Jeremy Ball
Twenty-one years ago, three generations of men in the Ball family (Me, my father, Richard, my grandfather, Lyle) came up with a plan to visit St. Louis and attend a couple of baseball games. From this simple beginning a favorite family tradition was born.
Why did we travel to St. Louis to watch baseball? Three basic reasons: the old Busch Stadium was set to be replaced in 2006, the St. Louis Cardinals were coming off a World Series appearance and looked to be very good, and my grandfather was itching to take a trip.
The next year, we naturally had to return to see the NEW Busch Stadium, and so the tradition began. We all enjoyed St. Louis, but with dad living in Texas we took in home games for the Astros and Rangers in 2007-08.
In 2009, my grandfather suggested we take in a Colorado Rockies game, this was followed by trips to a few other places. Then, around 2018, dad and I came up with an additional purpose for the trip: Visit every MLB home ballpark.
This year, three generations of men in the Ball family (Jeremy, Richard, my son, Hensley) took to the friendly skies on a Saturday morning for our annual baseball trip. This year took us to the West Coast: a Saturday night game in Seattle, a Sunday afternoon game in San Francisco, and a Monday evening game in Sacramento.
The trip involved five separate flights from six different airports, multiple trips on Seattle’s light rail, a rental car in California, and a wide variety of climates. We sat down the left field line, in the first base side upper deck, near the edge of the infield third base side, and even spent a few innings 10 rows behind home plate.
I witnessed one of the great promotions ever: Hot Dogs From Heaven. In the 8th inning, a few Mariners employees dropped hot dogs with mini-parachutes from the upper deck, resulting in a 10-15 second slow descent into the famished masses in the section below. People scrambled to fetch the highest margin item in the whole ballpark that was probably cooked around the same time pregame started; the whole scene was strangely beautiful and perfect.
We also had an opportunity to watch Seattle celebrate their 50 Greatest Players, and while the list wasn’t ranked they saved four greats for the final entrance: Ken Griffey Jr., Randy Johnson, Edgar Martinez, and Ichiro Suzuki.
There are still kayaks patrolling McCovey Cove (maybe 15 total?), and most were visible from the upper deck. Sacramento was a good experience, but MLB baseball in a Triple-A ballpark feels more like that latter than the former when the home team is 20 games under .500.
We marveled at the beauty and tranquility of Muir Woods, enjoyed my son’s reaction to the Gum Wall within Pike Place Market, and spent time Tuesday morning in my new favorite midsized airport: SAC. We learned that summer doesn’t really exist on the Golden Gate Bridge, where 58 degrees and 30 mph winds sent dad back to the car without us when we stopped for extra selfies. However, summer most certainly exists in Sacramento, as the 98 degrees had me sweating a few minutes into our 1/2 mile walk to the ballpark.
One thing we didn’t experience was a home win; Seattle managed only two runs during a 3-2 loss to the Rays, and San Francisco followed it up with a single run during a 3-1 extra innings loss to Detroit. Monday looked promising after the A’s took a 6-2 lead after the 7th, only to surrender eight runs to those pesky Rays in the 8th and lose 10-6.
The AL East leading Rays went 9-0 on their western road trip (they played three in Colorado before trips to Seattle and Sacramento) before returning home and losing three straight to the last place team in their division, Baltimore. Baseball is a funny game sometimes, maybe Tropicana Field is the problem?
“The Trop” could be on the agenda for next year; Tampa, Miami, and both New York teams are the only ones left to make all 30 for me. Dad has made it to the Mets but otherwise lacks the other three, so we are hoping to finish our quest by 2028. My son has only made it to eight, so in much the same way baseball is cyclical I hope this trip will be as well.
As Terrence Mann once told us, the one constant throughout the years has been baseball; I sincerely hope this remains true for Ball generations now and yet to come.
