I’m having some trouble deciding what my favorite thing about last night’s Brooklyn Cyclones game was. Was it the fact that they combined the Armed Services Night, Medieval Times Night, and Ike Davis Bobblehead Night promotions all in the same game? The moment where the Medieval Times king and queen knighted the Marine officer who threw out the ceremonial first pitch? That there were another six ceremonial first pitches after that one? The Ike Davis Bobblehead itself, which is in fact an upside-down bobblehead, commemorating the time that Ike Davis (now on the Mets, formerly on the Cyclones) pitched upside-down over a railing into the dugout order to catch a foul ball? The Medieval Times knights staging battles along the baselines between innings? That we now have two Ike Davis bobbleheads to complement our two Fireman Sandy bobbleheads from last week’s game, dramatically increasing the bobblehead count in our apartment? (If I went to more minor league baseball games, would my apartment gradually fill up with bobbleheads until my friends felt a need to stage an intervention?) The cracktastic neon-camo Vanilla-Ice-style fake-hiphop outfits worn by the dance troupe from Long Island who “entertained” the crowd before the show? The fact that a Cyclones announcer, wearing a Medieval Times jester costume, attacked the Mustard hot dog in the hot-dog race with a fake sword, thus allowing my favorite (and perpetual underdog) Relish to finally win the hot dog race? The fact that they have a hot dog race at all?
No, I think my favorite thing about the game last night was the part where one of the Cyclones cheerleaders (the Beach Bums, as they’re called) came out and did a baton-twirling routine, set to a dance mix of “Shot to the Heart” with a little “Don’t Stop Believing” thrown in for good measure.
I love minor league baseball. The only thing keeping me from Cyclones season tickets is that getting to Coney Island is a complete hassle.
Posted Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010 at 7:36 am. Filed under: Uncategorized.
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I *love* minor league baseball.
The last time I went to a local game, the pitcher clipped the batter with a wild throw. Batter ran to the mound and decked the pitcher. There was a mighty roar and both teams–and I mean everyone–rose up from the dugouts and made a huge pile in the center of the field. It took half an hour to get everything and everyone sorted out.