Tagged: cowbell

Distractions at Tropicana Field

I’m a week late writing about the distractions at Tropicana Field while we attended the Yankees game in Florida versus the Rays.

Sorry, got distracted.

Listen, I try hard to pay attention at Yankees games, honestly I do, but it was odd sitting under a dome at a ballpark versus being in the fresh open air (although the A/C is a welcome addition during Florida’s humidity attacks). Even when I did settle in to watch the game … ugh. A night of bad plays on the part of the Yankees.

If the roof wasn’t enough to keep my eyes roaming away from the field, these did the distraction trick for sure:

? The cowbells … everyone had cowbells. Fans rang them repeatedly to demonstrate their delight when the Rays made a good play or scored a run. Even the PA system sounded a cowbell! Why? Is it a Tropicana Field tradition or something? It’s not like the team is in the country; they’re in downtown St. Petersburg for Pete’s sake! I just didn’t see the connection.  Cowbells are quite annoying when repeatedly shaken and, if you ask me, belong at football games.

? Then there was a female Rays attendee behind us shouting almost directly in my left ear “WOO!!!!!!!! WOO!!!!!!!!” – quite deafening for nine innings;

? And I couldn’t stop observing a couple several rows down who were clearly on a first or second date. She acted like she cared about sports with her little girly nods and phony grins as the guy talked about the teams. When she marries him, she won’t smile that much.

? It was entertaining watching the three belligerent drunk girls being escorted out of the stands by security – twice;

? And the guy behind us won first prize for sporting the funniest T-shirt: “Boobies Make Me Smile.”

? Then I wondered if it was yet dark outside (that dome again…)

? And we were forced to perpetually pay attention to the slew of foul balls coming our way like small white torpedoes, without the luxury of nabbing one ourselves;
? Then there was the creative Cotton Candy Caller: “HEY!!!!” he screamed frantically, and everyone turned around immediately to look at him. “I got cotton candy,” he said matter-of-factly, with a smirk;

? And how comical to watch the hefty quantities of junk food and beer being shuffled up and down the aisles by vendors and fans, then being consumed by the average gorging American (with my teens asking for money to buy most of it: ice cream, cotton candy, pretzels, soda, French fries).

Yes, a night at a Yankees game, try as I may to pay attention, is no easy walk in the ballpark for me. Maybe I should sit in the front row.