Originally written August 2nd, 2009

At least once a season, I make a point to go up to Virginia and take my dad to a baseball game. The last two seasons, I had taken my dad to see the Nationals play the Braves and the San Diego Padres respectively. My dad understands the game, knows the rules, and has an appreciation for it, but the bottom line is that he's got little vested interest in today's game. His favorite player was Joe Torre, then player, not manager. Like I see with him, he sees these little excursions as importance of father-son family bonding, than a game that he can really get into.

That being said, I decided that it wasn't worth the time and effort necessary to haggle and bargain with snooty Washingtonians who have an inflated value of the Washington Nationals, and try to get double the face value, then the face value, then something at all for tickets to see one of the worst squads in the history of Major League Baseball. This decision was made even easier at a time in which the Washington Nationals were out of town, but Braves players were in town - namely the Class A+ Myrtle Beach Pelicans, as they made their way up the coast to take on the Nationals' own A+ squad, aptly named the Potomac Nationals.

As I've said before, I've taken quite a liking to minor league ball lately, mostly because of its relaxed atmosphere, and more ecomically friendly costs. That being said, it was of no effort or cost to get some great dugout seats on the Pelicans' side, and the short drive from Fairfax into Woodbridge was effortless and without headache. As is the tradition with every time, it was really easy to kick my feet up and drink a cold beer with my dad during a mild summer evening in preparation for some baseball.

Pfitzner Stadium as a whole is a quiet little place. And I cannot stress the term "quiet" here, because on this particular game, I say this seriously - there couldn't have been more than 100 people in attendance that night. The silence was downright maddening, and I really wanted to be the away-team fan bad guy, but it was so quiet, I did not want to make a spectacle of myself being the only person in the park showing any form of emotion. So, I was more or less relegated to clapping, which turned out to be extremely loud in such a desolate corner of the planet.

There's nothing really truly special about Pfitzner. It's probably the most mom-and-pop feeling atmosphere I've ever gotten from a ballpark, and there is really nothing that seems historic about the place. The Potomac Cannons once played here, as evidenced by the old analog clock on the top of the scoreboard that still reads "Cannons." Perhaps my expectations for even a minor-league ballpark have been a little distorted by Coastal Field, where the opposing Pelicans play, because that place is really nice, fun, and certainly more modern. I guess I couldn't be too surprised, but hey, every career has its bumps in the road, and I guess that's what serving time in Potomac could be for future Nationals players.

The evening spent was pretty good, since my dad and I were privileged to watch a competitive game that didn't seem like it would be at first, but turned into a pretty tense evening for me. And for that, I can't really ask for much more than a good memory.

Unfortunately for Pfitzer, it wasn't very popular with the opposing team. Some things I overheard from some of the Pelicans players, namely the relief pitchers, is that they didn't really like the facilities, something I can't really blame them for, considering I about ran into PNats second baseman, Michael Martinez, in full uniform in the men's room prior to the game. The most notable being Pelicans relief pitcher, Benino Pruneda, stating, "it's not like we're baseball players or something. This place is a piece of shit."

I guess not everyone can be happy with the little things in life.