I am an adopted member of the Kansas City Royals family, surrounded by an all-encompassing blue cloud of enthusiasm emanating, year-round, from my husband and brother-in-law as they wait, excitedly, for the beginning of each baseball season. My daughters were raised beneath a blue banner. Brad and his brother bleed, Royal blue.
This year was especially exciting as Mosimans from across America migrated to their home stadium: The K. Alaska, Texas, Iowa, California, and New York vacated their nests and high-tailed it to Kansas City. "I only packed three Royals shirts," I fussed, worriedly, unpacking my suitcase. "We're only here three days." Savannah answered, always secure beneath the rim of her Royals ball cap, "How many shirts did you plan on wearing in that time span?"
I fan-girled HARD as I approached the stadium. I could catch a glimpse of The K's famous "hydration station," the tiered water fountain that frames the scoreboard. A staff member greeted us warmly as we approached the ticket gate. Let's be real...EVERY staff member of the K greeted us warmly. But Tori chatted us up as we waited in line, smiling as I told her how excited I was to attend my first game at Kaufmann Stadium. She told me that I could receive a certificate chronicling this day. We ditched Tori as the crowd surged forward to receive their game day momento. It was bobble-head day at The K! I watched bewildered as Jeff (representing the Iowa contingency) practically swatted away the hand offering him his bobble-head. He circled back around when we yelled after him. Gripping his bobble-head, he explained, "I thought they were selling Girl Scout cookies."
We quickly found our seats and then I was off, ready to explore the stadium and stand by the fountain that I've seen on TV for years. Did you know that, when inspiration for the design struck, it was initially sketched on a napkin? Kaufmann Stadium is so kid-friendly. They have an entire area set aside for a mini-mini-golf course, a carousel, a timed base run track, and more. Brad and I visited the Royals Hall of Fame museum where we encountered Tori again. I was oogling George Brett's bat (No, that was NOT meant to sound naughty) when she popped up to remind me to get my certificate. I turned to Brad, startled. How on earth had she remembered me? I was too embarrassed to tell her that I'd ended up eschewing my dream of playing mini-mini-golf at the K (and now, asking for a certificate) because I didn't want to seem silly and immature. Which is utterly ridiculous because I AM silly and immature.
We returned to our seats to enjoy the game. The energy of the stadium was electric. Music. Fireworks. Fun. Family. A grasshopper took a time-out on my finger for a bit and I dubbed him my "home run hopper." Sydney and I gasped when the vendors began walking about, selling strawberry kabobs. Savannah slipped me shelled peanuts, one-by-one, like I was a little monkey. Brad bought me a ridiculously bright beverage that gave me a brain-freeze with every sip but I didn't care. We sang. We danced. We groaned and cheered. Celebrated...commiserated...and sympathized with one another. Melendez hit his home run and we raised the roof. Savannah laughed when I loudly complained that my bobble-head wasn't on the field. I lobbed fun facts between pitches and smiled when Brad's childhood slipped out every time he said "enning" the mid-west way.
We would have left happy, no matter what, but the 3-0 win certainly didn't hurt.
The next day, as our family members flew the coop, my husband asked how I wanted to spend the remainder of our time before our evening flight.
Yup. Back to The K we went.
And yup. There was Tori.
And by the 6th "enning," she made sure that my certificate was filled out and in my hands. The athletes were on the field but the superstars were in the stands with the fans, elevating the game to a whole other level with their smiles, helpful and accommodating assistance, and above-expectation service.
So now you know why The K gets an A in my book.
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