The Bellingham Bells baseball game last night was highly contentious and a little bit tragic. The Bells overtook the Walla Walla Sweets’ early lead, then fell apart.
Both the coach and the starting pitcher got tossed for yelling at the umps over bad calls. The Bells almost but didn’t quite manage a 9th inning attempt to put the egg back together again. They lost 7-6.
Tom Hanks reminded us that there is no crying in baseball. Yet shouldn’t there be an exception when you lose to a team whose city is known globally for its onions? (Or its prison, thanks to The Offspring.)
Tonight is the last game of the season, with fireworks after. Of course I’ll be there. Saturday is the only guaranteed home game of post-season play. Unless they’ve sold out by the time the box office opens tonight, your diarist’s attendance there is a lock.
“Why?” you might wonder:
1) Because this is really good college ball. Baseball games are long but explosive, and Bells games usually feature quite a few booms.
2) Because it’s inexpensive entertainment. If you ever pay more than $8 for Bells tickets, you got taken.
3) Because games at Joe Martin Field are an ideal use of summer nights in the northwest corner of the good Washington.
4) Because the two religions in the Lott household growing up were Baptism and baseball. My relationship to the first is complicated nowadays, you might say. But I still firmly believe that the man who is tired of baseball is tired of life.