Me and baseball. Not a match made in any heaven, not at all. Really always swore I didn’t like the game. Just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooring.

When I got the opportunity this past weekend to go to a Red Sox game, I was apprehensive. The tickets were free, so no loss there, but I was thinking this wasn’t going to be my sort of thing. I always have my handy-dandy camera with me, which turns even the most boring endeavors into picture taking opportunities.

But, this turned out to be a lot of fun. I realized that even before I got into the stadium:

Yeah, OK, not uncommon to see a guy dressed as a hot dog, but he kind of looks like an Armadillo to me.

Of course, he was a sign that the ball park would be a place of all kind of culinary delights:

The monster dog. What a great name, but the ice cream helmet turned out just to be a plastic baseball helmet with soft serve in it.

The scenery itself was pretty nice too:

I love photorealism and these Americana neon signs, so the ball park was heaven in that respect for me.

And now to the Sawks fans. That’s how the Bostonians say it, Sawks. Here they are:

They were playing the Brewers, by the way and actually won, but that was almost secondary, when the scoreboard featured things like this:

Getting hit by a pitch that many times. Poor guy. And things written in foreign languages like this:

As the last picture, I give you this guy and I’ll explain in a second why:

I love the loopy look on the guy’s face. I’d be loopy too if I were selling $4 ice cream to people all day at a baseball game.

OK, Red Soxs, you won me over.