Beisbol en Panamá

27 May 2012.  Sunday.


What a pleasant afternoon it was.  A couple weeks back we discovered that each Sunday there is baseball at the local baseball stadium.  Today we decided we must try it out.  We were already in town, so it was easy to hail a taxi.  However, because the ball park was in the opposite direction from home, our usual destination, the taxi driver instinctively swung the car around and headed toward home.  We got him to stop quickly enough, but then a confused conversation ensued.  When I concluded he was not going our direction, we hopped out of the taxi and crossed the street to the spot where we began.  After a few confused looks and hand signals from the taxi driver, he turned the taxi around and we hopped right back in the same car.  Off we went.

A couple of kilometers later (all uphill), we arrived at the stadium.  Admission was free, so in we walked.  The grand stand was not large, but there were bleacher seats for maybe 300 or 400 people.  Only about a hundred were there today.  The game was already underway, so we just grabbed a spot on the bleachers and began to absorb the experience.  Quite a few people were watching us as we walked in and climbed to our seats.  As we settled in, it was hard not to notice immediately the play-by-play announcer.  He was standing on top of the scorer’s booth immediately behind home plate.  With a microphone in his hand, and powerful speakers to broadcast his insight, he was talking non-stop.  I mean non-stop. 

His only breaks came between the half-innings.  Then he rested while lively Latino music entertained us.  In his first break after we arrived he came right over to us, and after determining we could speak a little Spanish, he asked a few friendly questions.  As soon as his microphone was live again he presented us to the crowd as baseball fans all the way from Alaska in the United States.  He, and the crowd, welcomed us as I waved my hat in acknowledgement.  After that most of the people returned to watching the game instead of us.

It was a very friendly crowd.  Much cheering, and no jeering.  No one ever yelled at the umpire—I appreciated that.  And such good behavior despite what looked like a more than ample flow of beer throughout the stands.  Beer and soup.  No hot dogs.  You could get an empañada if you wanted, but the soup was almost as popular as the beer.  Each bowl (of soup!) contained a nice piece of chicken.

The teams were all local.  We saw the end of one game and the start of a second, so we saw 4 teams in action.  It was adult league ball.  Lots of 20- and 30-somethings enjoying the activity.  The best of the teams was mostly young guys—much faster and a little less rusty.  Some of the men on each team had similar uniforms, but others wore completely different colors.  Like maybe at one time they had enough uniforms, but some had long since disappeared.

Of course I noticed the umpires.  The plate umpire was fully equipped and in a typical umpire uniform.  The base umpire wore the right pants, but the shirt wasn’t quite right.  Both of them seemed experienced, but their mechanics were clearly not learned at the Jim Evans Academy of Professional Umpiring.  At one point I was afraid the first base umpire was going to have to make a call at third base while still standing behind first base.  He was lucky not to have any close calls to make from so far out of position. 

I itched to get into the game.  Maybe in our next assignment I’ll find a place to umpire some games.  Baseball is the national sport of Nicaragua, you know.

When it was time to go, we waved goodbye to our fellow fans and hailed another taxi back into town.  What a fine afternoon.