Recently the family and I attended a Reds game at Great American Ball Park in Cincinnati. I’m not exactly a die hard fan of the sport; I follow baseball about as closely as I follow nuclear physics. By that I mean that I am vaguely aware of any recent major happening, but when it comes to the day to day type stuff, who’s injured, who’s been traded, who’s testifying before Congress, I’m just slightly more informed than a trout (speaking of trout, self-centered idiots. Every last one of them).

But even a non-fan such as myself knows that attending a baseball game is a bigger than just the game taking place at a snail’s pace on the field. It’s the atmosphere that surrounds the game that makes it enjoyable: the sound of vendors traversing the aisles with their ice cold beer, piping hot hot dogs, and fresh roasted peanuts, the pipe organ (or at least the recording of one) rousing the fans to yell “charge!”, and the 47 failed attempts to start the wave. Besides, I cannot pass up the opportunity to attend a baseball game since it provides me with another chance to fulfill one of my life long dreams: to finally appear on the ginormous stadium scoreboard television.

Yes, it has long been my dream to see myself on the Jumbotron, then point to the screen, then wave at the screen, then realize I am waving in the wrong direction since the scoreboard is in the opposite direction of the camera, then try to find the camera that‘s filming me, then finally wave directly into the camera while still trying to watch myself wave on the screen. This dream has eluded me since my first visit to professional sporting event over twenty years ago. The good thing about baseball games is that even when something is happening in baseball very little is actually taking place, so the cameramen have to keep panning the crowd in search of scoreboard worthy patrons to broadcast.

Speaking of scoreboard worthy patrons, I believe one of the reasons why I haven’t been up on the big screen yet is because I am a victim of “fan profiling”. I’ve detected a trend in the supposed “random fans” who appear on the scoreboard television and they almost always fall into one of these categories: face/body painters, couples (usually older ones), hot chicks, and cute children. I’ve never attended a game as a member of one of these groups, but since both of my daughters would be attending the game (both of which have been described as adorable), I figured this was my chance to finally fulfill my dream. My wife also attended, and I tried talking her into working the “hot chick” angle to increase our scoreboard appearance probability, but she rebuked my request to tart herself up.

We sat in the lower level along first baseline next to the aisle which I encouraged my daughters to use in between innings to stand up and perhaps even dance should the inclination hit them. During the innings I placed my youngest daughter in my lap, thinking to myself how perfect the image would look on the scoreboard television. If only we’d brought a kitten.

I tried to teach her what was going on to keep her interested in the game, which was quite difficult considering my own waning interest. I lost her after three pitches since she was more interested in pointing out cotton candy vendors and asking which one we planned to buy from. I did manage to teach both girls the lost art of chatter (heyyyyyyeeeeee batter-batter-batter-batter-batter SUH-WING!), much to the annoyance of everyone else in my section.

Seven innings in and no luck. The game was close, but the scoreboard was still pitching me a shutout. My youngest started acting tired so I held her, secretly hoping that she might fall asleep (a sleeping child at a baseball game is a cameraman’s holy grail of cute). She batted her eyes a bit, but she stayed awake through the last two innings. Must’ve been the cotton candy.

The game wasn’t a total failure; after all the Reds won and everyone had a good time. But my dream of waving to the crowd from the giant stadium television screen remains just a dream… for now at least. On our next stadium visit, I plan on upping the ante.

I’m painting the kids’ faces.

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