Our First Royals Game
Somewhere along the line, I went from rooting for the World Champion Boston Red Sox of 2004 to the Kansas City Royals, the worst team in baseball. I am obligated to add "the worst team in baseball" because anytime the Royals are mentioned, so is that surname. I'll read an article previewing a game between the Royals and the Baltimore Orioles and it almost always says, "The Baltimore Orioles will take on the Kansas City Royals, the worst team in baseball, tonight at..." It's almost to the point where even the team's promotions are accompanied by that designation. "Hey kids, next Tuesday is Meet the Team Night here at Kauffman Stadium. All your favorite players from the Royals, the worst team in baseball, will be there to sign autographs..." No one really seems to mind though. The stats don't lie. They are the worst team in baseball–at least, the worst team in the majors. I would hope that some team, somewhere is worse than the Royals.
One of the things about baseball that is so great, however, is that on a given night, even the worst team in baseball can better the best. At any time, the Royals can put it all together, hit well, field well, and pitch well, and be competitive with anyone in the league. Maybe that is one reason why we cheer for the Royals, the worst team in baseball. I have soft spot for the underdogs. When you pull for the underdog and they actually come through and win, it's a great feeling. And, if they end up losing, well, they were supposed to lose. The Royals are supposed to lose every time they take the field these days. It's exciting when they buck the trend.
Now that we live in the Kansas City area, we have sealed our fate and the fate of our posterity. The Royals are officially our team. A person can'tlegitimatelyy live in a big league town and cheer for another team unless they are transplants from another big league town. In Utah we could pick and choose our teams, except for the Jazz. The Jazz was our team, just like the Royals are our team. Our kids will grow up to be Royals fans too. They'll have little Royals hats from the time their heads are big enough to wear one. They'll go out to the ball park and watch their team, the Royals, the worst team in baseball. We will be a family of die-hards. When they finally start winning again, we'll be there to cheer them on, more excited than ever.
We tried to get tickets to a game for Saturday, August 19, but we couldn't. Since I doubt they were sold out, my guess is that they shut down internet sales at a certain point on game day. Anyhow, we made plans to attend Tuesday night's game and purchased our tickets Monday just to be safe. The seats were only $7 a piece. That should give you some indication as to where they were. Let's just say I was planning on stuffing my pockets with toilet paper just in case blood started oozing from my nose during the game. I can't say whether our seats were all that bad because Tuesday afternoon our friend Brooke Buck called welcoming us to the area. She said we'd have to get together for a game sometime, and I agreed. I told her we had tickets to that night's game, but they were pretty far up, and she asked why we hadn't gotten our tickets through her and her husband, John Buck, the starting catcher for the Royals, the worst team in baseball. The truth is, I don't want to take advantage of them. Anyhow, she said John would leave a pair of tickets for us and we would be sitting with her and John's father, Gary, that night. We accepted.
We were so excited to be going to a Royals game, even if they are the worst team in baseball. I put on my Royals hat that Brooke had given me for a birthday present, and threw on my Royals jersey, which was an anniversary present. I was ready to go. I was a Royals fan. And, when we arrived at the stadium, I saw that I wasn't the only one. It was the first time I had ever seen more than one person wearing Royals fan gear at the same time.
Kauffman Stadium was incredible. What a beautiful place to play baseball. There is an enormous scoreboard in centerfield in the shape of the Royals' crown logo. Just beyond the outfield fences there were fountains shooting 50-60 feet high. It was obvious that this was a major league club's facility. It might not be as new as some other stadiums, but its grandeur far surpassed what we had become accustomed to at Franklin-Covey in Salt Lake. We took a short walk around the third-base side of the park, and on our way back to our seats behind home plate the announcer began announcing the Royals' starting line-up. I predicted the first six players in the batting order, which impressed Brooke, I'm sure. But, the coolest announcement was when the man with the deep voice said that batting eighth and catching for the Royals was my good friend Johnny Buck. That night would be the first time I had seen him play in just over eight years.
The game itself was a good one. Like I said, one of the wonderful things about baseball is that anything can happen. That night, the Royals' starting pitcher threw a gem, giving up just two runs in seven innings. The third-baseman, Mark Teahen, was 4-4 from the plate, with a single, two doubles, a homerun, and two RBI. John was 1-2, with a walk, and caught a runner stealing second. It was the perfect game, and the Royals, our Royals, the worst team in baseball, wasn't the worst team that night, beating the Cleveland Indians 5-2.
Near the end of the game, Brooke Buck asked if we wanted to stick around and wait for John. We decided to do so, and would have regretted missing that opportunity had we not taken it. The game ended, and Brooke Buck led us through various levels of security, down a few flights of concrete stairs in the heart of Kauffman Stadium to the hallway where players' families wait for them to come out of the clubhouse. As we waited we talked with Brooke (from now on, "Brooke" is Brooke Buck, and "Brookie" is my wife), but I had a hard time concentrating because we were surrounded by the framed game-jerseys of the members of the Royals Hall of Fame. I was trying to soak it all in.
John came out of the clubhouse, came over to us, kissed his wife, and gave us both hugs. We chatted for a few minutes before he led us out of the stadium through the players' tunnel, and out to the players parking lot. He showed us his truck, and when we told him we didn't park near by (Brooke had given us a parking pass that would have allowed us to park to right next to the stadium, but we didn't know and just parked where the people told us to park) he gave us a ride right to our car. When we hopped into the truck and he started it up, a little LCD screen slid out of his dashboard. His dad was pretty impressed and so were we. But what really impressed me was what came up on the screen. It wasn't some hip hop music video or anything you would see on an episode of MTV Cribs. It was video on the Indians' hitters. John had been watching video of the opposing team's hitters to study them on his way to the stadium. I had always thought that he was a solid player. A player that has great potential and a great work ethic, but seeing that video in his truck just showed me what a true professional he is.
John is the reason I started checking the Royals' website every day. Little by little I started to know more about the Royals, the worst team in baseball, and less about the Red Sox or any other team in the league. It was a slippery slope from there. Now I have a hat and a jersey. We have already been to two games (the worst team in baseball showed up for the second). Plus, we already have our tickets for a game against the Yankees. The Royals are our team. And, even if they are still the worst team in baseball, we're proud to be Royals fans.
One of the things about baseball that is so great, however, is that on a given night, even the worst team in baseball can better the best. At any time, the Royals can put it all together, hit well, field well, and pitch well, and be competitive with anyone in the league. Maybe that is one reason why we cheer for the Royals, the worst team in baseball. I have soft spot for the underdogs. When you pull for the underdog and they actually come through and win, it's a great feeling. And, if they end up losing, well, they were supposed to lose. The Royals are supposed to lose every time they take the field these days. It's exciting when they buck the trend.
Now that we live in the Kansas City area, we have sealed our fate and the fate of our posterity. The Royals are officially our team. A person can'tlegitimatelyy live in a big league town and cheer for another team unless they are transplants from another big league town. In Utah we could pick and choose our teams, except for the Jazz. The Jazz was our team, just like the Royals are our team. Our kids will grow up to be Royals fans too. They'll have little Royals hats from the time their heads are big enough to wear one. They'll go out to the ball park and watch their team, the Royals, the worst team in baseball. We will be a family of die-hards. When they finally start winning again, we'll be there to cheer them on, more excited than ever.
We tried to get tickets to a game for Saturday, August 19, but we couldn't. Since I doubt they were sold out, my guess is that they shut down internet sales at a certain point on game day. Anyhow, we made plans to attend Tuesday night's game and purchased our tickets Monday just to be safe. The seats were only $7 a piece. That should give you some indication as to where they were. Let's just say I was planning on stuffing my pockets with toilet paper just in case blood started oozing from my nose during the game. I can't say whether our seats were all that bad because Tuesday afternoon our friend Brooke Buck called welcoming us to the area. She said we'd have to get together for a game sometime, and I agreed. I told her we had tickets to that night's game, but they were pretty far up, and she asked why we hadn't gotten our tickets through her and her husband, John Buck, the starting catcher for the Royals, the worst team in baseball. The truth is, I don't want to take advantage of them. Anyhow, she said John would leave a pair of tickets for us and we would be sitting with her and John's father, Gary, that night. We accepted.
We were so excited to be going to a Royals game, even if they are the worst team in baseball. I put on my Royals hat that Brooke had given me for a birthday present, and threw on my Royals jersey, which was an anniversary present. I was ready to go. I was a Royals fan. And, when we arrived at the stadium, I saw that I wasn't the only one. It was the first time I had ever seen more than one person wearing Royals fan gear at the same time.
Kauffman Stadium was incredible. What a beautiful place to play baseball. There is an enormous scoreboard in centerfield in the shape of the Royals' crown logo. Just beyond the outfield fences there were fountains shooting 50-60 feet high. It was obvious that this was a major league club's facility. It might not be as new as some other stadiums, but its grandeur far surpassed what we had become accustomed to at Franklin-Covey in Salt Lake. We took a short walk around the third-base side of the park, and on our way back to our seats behind home plate the announcer began announcing the Royals' starting line-up. I predicted the first six players in the batting order, which impressed Brooke, I'm sure. But, the coolest announcement was when the man with the deep voice said that batting eighth and catching for the Royals was my good friend Johnny Buck. That night would be the first time I had seen him play in just over eight years.
The game itself was a good one. Like I said, one of the wonderful things about baseball is that anything can happen. That night, the Royals' starting pitcher threw a gem, giving up just two runs in seven innings. The third-baseman, Mark Teahen, was 4-4 from the plate, with a single, two doubles, a homerun, and two RBI. John was 1-2, with a walk, and caught a runner stealing second. It was the perfect game, and the Royals, our Royals, the worst team in baseball, wasn't the worst team that night, beating the Cleveland Indians 5-2.
Near the end of the game, Brooke Buck asked if we wanted to stick around and wait for John. We decided to do so, and would have regretted missing that opportunity had we not taken it. The game ended, and Brooke Buck led us through various levels of security, down a few flights of concrete stairs in the heart of Kauffman Stadium to the hallway where players' families wait for them to come out of the clubhouse. As we waited we talked with Brooke (from now on, "Brooke" is Brooke Buck, and "Brookie" is my wife), but I had a hard time concentrating because we were surrounded by the framed game-jerseys of the members of the Royals Hall of Fame. I was trying to soak it all in.
John came out of the clubhouse, came over to us, kissed his wife, and gave us both hugs. We chatted for a few minutes before he led us out of the stadium through the players' tunnel, and out to the players parking lot. He showed us his truck, and when we told him we didn't park near by (Brooke had given us a parking pass that would have allowed us to park to right next to the stadium, but we didn't know and just parked where the people told us to park) he gave us a ride right to our car. When we hopped into the truck and he started it up, a little LCD screen slid out of his dashboard. His dad was pretty impressed and so were we. But what really impressed me was what came up on the screen. It wasn't some hip hop music video or anything you would see on an episode of MTV Cribs. It was video on the Indians' hitters. John had been watching video of the opposing team's hitters to study them on his way to the stadium. I had always thought that he was a solid player. A player that has great potential and a great work ethic, but seeing that video in his truck just showed me what a true professional he is.
John is the reason I started checking the Royals' website every day. Little by little I started to know more about the Royals, the worst team in baseball, and less about the Red Sox or any other team in the league. It was a slippery slope from there. Now I have a hat and a jersey. We have already been to two games (the worst team in baseball showed up for the second). Plus, we already have our tickets for a game against the Yankees. The Royals are our team. And, even if they are still the worst team in baseball, we're proud to be Royals fans.
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