My birthday was last month. (I’m 41. Thanks for asking.) To celebrate, my family took me to see the Frederick Keys play the Lynchburg Hillcats. The Keys are a Class A minor league ballclub in the Carolina League and are part of the Baltimore Orioles farm system. They get their name from Francis Scott Key, who was born in Frederick County, opened his law practice in Frederick city, and whose final resting place is in the cemetery across the street from the stadium.

I’m no great fan of baseball; football is more my style. Oh, I did a few years in organized youth baseball (Little Loop and Babe Ruth) and signed up for a couple of turns of corporate softball, but I have no skills. I find Major League baseball boring and overcommercialized*, and have no great love for Major League ballplayers. However, I can follow and enjoy a game.

A number of things that appealed to me:

• I promised the kids I would take them some time. We never did get to it last season, and they asked about it virtually every time we went by the stadium, which is a couple of times a week.
• There were fireworks planned for after the game, another big appeal for the kids. (And me, to be honest. I love fireworks.)
• Minor league ballplayers haven’t yet been spoiled by fame and money.
• Without overly long breaks for commercials, games actually finish in less than two hours.
• The best seats in the house, which only seats a few thousand people, are $11 each.
• Both Barley and Hops and Brewer’s Alley serve their beer at Harry Grove Stadium.

The day turned out even better than I expected. It was a beautiful day with clear, blue skies. There had been rain in the forecast but it held off until after we left, and the temperature was just perfect. (In other words, my wife was cold.) A previous game had been rained out, so we now had a double-header. My family also got me a gift certificate for my favored beer retailer.

The concessions are a bit on the pricey side, but still much less than you would pay at a Major League ballpark. Heck, they are less than you would pay at a movie theater. Between innings there were the obligatory contests and little goofy events. (If you’ve seen Bull Durham you’ll know what I mean.) They had a chicken dance contest on top of the visitor’s dugout, had a couple of kids race around the bases in opposite directions, had a show from kids learning to juggle, and even had three guys—dressed as a hot dog, soda cup, and popcorn bucket—race to determine which item would be discounted for the rest of the inning.

We ate hot dogs and popcorn. The girls had cotton candy. And, of course, my wife and I had 20-ounce cups of craft-brewed beer from the local brewpubs. Somewhere in there we watched, with varying degrees of attention, the Keys split the double-header with the Hillcats. Followed by a very nice fireworks show.

Everybody had a great time which, after all, is really what I wanted. 

* Sure, the same could be said for the NFL and I wouldn’t disagree. But my enjoyment of football is usually enough to overcome these drawbacks. Not so baseball.