America's pasttime

It's a beautiful spring day in the District (again, surprisingly) and the weather is reminiscent of the great weather we had this past weekend. On Saturday, my favorite baseball team, the Anaheim Angels were in the area. Yes, I know that they are not officially the "anaheim angels" anymore, but I refuse to call them the LA Angels of Anaheim, because any Cali native knows that's just stupid. So, yes, my Angels were in B-more to face the Orioles and they actually lost 3 of 4 in that series--darn O's. And although the loss was very difficult to swallow (and the subsequent harassment I received from a table of drunk O's fans at ESPN Zone didn't help), there was one highlight. My boyfriend caught a baseball. It was not just any ball, but an official MLB baseball used in actual play. As Jesse and I were casually hanging out in our seats in the outfield bleachers, a ball was hit into our general area. We weren't paying attention at the time and a group of guys jumped up and reached for the ball. Somehow the ball hit the seats instead and bounced over to Jesse. And although the ball was hit by some Oriole, I was very, very excited about Jesse catching the ball.