As the night sky lit up with a barrage of red, white and blue fireworks, I rose to my feet in celebration and did so despite the adverse conditions and a painful injury. I proudly stood there for our nation’s birthday, and as a conquering hero — akin to a general looking over a blood-stained battlefield following another hard-fought victory.
At that moment I thought, “All the blood, sweat, and tears have led to this glorious moment. You never wavered and this is your prize. This is what you will be remembered for. This is the defining moment of your legacy. You did it.”
You may be asking yourself, what phenomenal act did he pull off that will be etched into his tombstone? You know the type of courageous and selfless act that will most likely inspire Grammy-winning folk songs, a New York Times bestselling book, and an acclaimed HBO mini-series.
Did I save someone from peril or did I discover a new way to feed the hungry? No. It was something far more daunting.. I successfully watched in person two minor league baseball games on vacation with a wife and child who don’t love or even like America’s pastime.
Take a moment if you feel compelled to stand up and applaud this monumental feat.
I adore baseball.
It was the first sport I fell in love with as a child, it is the one I played the most growing up and my childhood was centered around listening to and watching Atlanta Braves games, collecting massive amounts of baseball cards, and consuming every stat that appeared in box scores in the morning newspaper, and then later watch every highlight on ESPN.
I am a baseball guy and a proud one at that.
My beautiful bride Tina is not. She is an amazing woman for a multitude of reasons (loving and supportive wife, excellent mom, top-notch cook, smart as a whip, etc.) but her love of baseball is not one of them. She adores football, preferably her New Orleans Saints, and enjoys watching golf and the Olympics. But asking her to sit and watch a baseball game is not happening.
To her credit, she tolerates it and is more than encouraging — almost to the point where I grow suspicious — of me attending baseball games with my friends. Guys weekends catching games of the Houston Astros and Texas Rangers? She signs off on all the time. Me catching a Chicago White Sox game while attending a work seminar? You bet.
And she also is super supportive of my passion for minor league baseball games, and collecting mini-bats from the minor league parks that I have visited. The deal is essentially that I can watch games on TV and in person, as long as she doesn’t have to be involved. It is a good trade-off as she can watch all the reality trash TV her heart craves. After all, marriage is all about finding a happy compromise.
That makes what occurred in Oklahoma this summer such an accomplishment, especially after my far less successful campaign of 2022.
That year we did a Great American Road Trip vacation where we drove up to see my brother Michael in Clarksville, Tenn., and part of that visit was taking in a Nashville Sound game. I loved it. My wife and our daughter Hattie — who shares her mama’s disdain or maybe indifference toward baseball — really didn’t like sweating in uncomfortable seats watching America’s Pastime.
Yet, I pushed it even further on that trip because we next drove over to Evansville, Ind., to see our friends Mike and Abbey and their little ones. While there we went and toured Bosse Field — the third oldest ballpark in America and where they filmed large portions of “A League of Their Own.”
That was way too much baseball for my wife and daughter, and any chance of getting them back into a ballpark seemed minuscule at best. Yet, I found way.
Of course I had a conspirator involved this time around, as one of our best friends, David, who shares my baseball passion, orchestrated our attendance for an outing on the Fourth of July to see the Oklahoma City Baseball Club play at home. It just wasn’t just us going to a game, but also members of his family, and we all got to watch the fireworks afterward.
Despite the unbearable humidity that blanketed the area that night, and the fact that earlier in the day I bruised my foot jumping off a diving board at community pool, we stayed for the entirety of the game. The kid even had fun thanks to yours truly buying her Dippin’ Dots in a pink mini-helmet and a foam finger. I also promised to let her paint my toe nails when we got back home. Yes, hot pink nail polish looks great on me.
But the more amazing aspect of this heroic accomplishment was that the game in OKC was the second game of the trip. Say what?
How’s that for a M. Night Shyamalan twist? Yes. I managed to squeeze in two minor league games on the family vacation. How did I do it? Did I bribe my wife and daughter? Did I lie to them and say I was going to the store for ice and simply went to the game? No. I was simply honest.
At the last minute, we opted to drive over to Round Rock area to start our family vacation. My wife wanted us to take our daughter to the Inner Space Cavern in Georgetown and then visit Waco for the Dr. Pepper Museum, and of course, Magnolia. So I recommend that we could stay in Round Rock for a few nights, and it just so happened that the Round Rock Express were at home.
The wife was quick to my game plan and said that I could take our daughter and go but that she would relax in the hotel room. Then, our daughter was like “daddy, I would rather stay with mama.” Did that hurt my soul? A little? But that also meant I didn’t have to worry about buying her cotton candy at the game, and I could go by myself which is exactly what I did.
I found a free parking spot outside of Dell Diamond, bought a cheap ticket, made sure to eat a hot dog — you can’t watch a baseball game in person without having one — and I proudly purchased my mini-bat too.
That’s right, I managed to squeeze in visiting two baseball parks in the same vacation for the second time in three years and did so with two women who don’t care for the game I love. I don’t think it is a reach to state that it is the equivalent of throwing two no-hitters in a three-year stretch.
This act of baseball bravery will remain fresh in my mind because it is the only thing that keeps me sane while my wife watches episodes of “Love Island” or “Love At First Sight” or “Trainwreck Love” (which is not a real show name but should be) and my daughter slaps another coat of glitter onto my toe nails.
Those are the sacrifices needed to experience this kind of legendary glory my friends.
Raymond Partsch III is the co-host of “RP3 & Meche” which is broadcast weekdays (11-1) on ESPN 103.7 Lafayette and 104.1 Lake Charles — Southwest Louisiana’s Sports Station.