Day 6: Let's play two

After that lovely bus ride that seemed to take forever, I arrived back in downtown Cincinnati. My room wasn't ready at the hotel. But by sitting in the lobby I struck up a conversation with a man from Toledo. He liked my Mr. Redlegs hat and he gave me his box seats, around 30th row, behind the first base dugout. I've always said that some of the most generous people in Ohio come from Toledo.

He was on his way to Omaha for the College World Series. I was on my way to my sixth straight day of attending a professional baseball game — my third at Great American Ball Park in Cincinnati. And it was about 14 hours after we saw the Pirates beat the Orioles in Pittsburgh.

I'm tired. I maybe put together three hours of sleep on the Greyhound trip, which included an hour layover in Columbus. I used to take a bus from that same Columbus depot to Athens when I went to Ohio University. It looked and felt the same as it did over a decade ago. But I didn't see anyone selling drugs in the men's room. That was a first.

I sat again in the Moon/Sundeck at the stadium for the first five innings. I believe this is first time I've attended a Major League game alone. Let me tell you: It was a hell of a lot better than attending with Brian and Nick.

Not really. It was just different. I spent the later innings wandering around the stadium trying to check it all — the artwork (which features a cool Big Red Machine mural made of tiles and a tribute to the original Cincinnati Red Stockings of 1869, the first professional baseball team) and the different views of the game. From the upper deck to the right field stands and all along the concourses behind the infield seats, you have a good view of the action.

There is a carnival-like atmosphere at Great American. There's a woman on stilts, a juggler, jazz quartets, a 50/50 raffle that benefits the Reds Community Fund, which really does some cool things around the area for kids. There are a bunch of games — many of which I think would have been cool to have at Riverfront Stadium. 

The fans are some of the friendliest in baseball. Yankee fans have been telling me that. While I've never seen a game in St. Louis, I can't imagine a better group of fans to watch a game with. There is no consistent swearing like you hear in New York. And most people are rather courteous and laid back. You do, like at every baseball game we've attended, hear louder people talking and complaining about the game in such a way that they show they don't understand it enough to criticize batters' swings at off speed pitches. I don't understand enough myself, which is why I try to keep quieter.

But enough of this. Next game is in about two hours. I have plans.