Royal Blue Party

The fact that the temperature hovered around 80 degrees on the recent sunny Saturday afternoon that the Royals battled the Twins wasn’t the best part of the day. Nor was it the fact that the game was actually somewhat exciting. Nope, the most hilarious moment happened on Kiss Cam, when two guys made like they were going to make out.

Of course, the Kiss Cam weenies cut away before any lip-lock action took place. Sigh. Welcome to the so-called family-friendly atmosphere of Kauffman Stadium. And by “family friendly,” we really mean “home of the enormo $6.25 beers.”

We had a great time at the ballpark, thanks in part to said beers, and despite the fact that we were surrounded by Twins fans. We almost felt like we were at an away game, what with the screaming hordes in red and navy blue who elongated their vowels and were unfailingly, Canadianishly polite. When some kids on the upper level spat a couple of times on a group of Twins fans near us, they just mustered up a semi-outraged, “Hey! Those kids are spitting on us!”

For this field trip, the Night Ranger — or, rather, the Day Ranger — dug up her royal-blue vintage I-70 Series T-shirt, slathered on the sunscreen and headed out to the stadium with Research Assistants Cece and John.

For us, baseball is an atmosphere sport; it’s all about being outside, drinking and eating hot dogs. Naturally, people watching ranks high on our list, too. During our foray for refreshments, we encountered a kid sporting a rat tail. OK, don’t be evil and make fun of kids, we told ourselves. But. Can’t. Resist. Power. Of. Rat. Tail! We spotted several mother-daughter teams in flimsy white tank tops that revealed nude-colored bra straps.

Then there were the chicks who got creative with the scissors and their T-shirts and cut in cleavage slots or lopped off sleeves. A couple sitting near us sported royal-blue shirts that said “Kansas City” on the front and “1985 called. They want their team back” on the back. A young-looking, Engaged–&–Underage-type bachelorette group wandered around en masse. Their blue shirts read “Team Bride” on the front; the backs spelled out the role of each player. “Bridesmaid” and “Friend of bride” surrounded the blue-veiled soon-to-be-wed.

The game itself was fairly riveting — the home-run fireworks even erupted a couple of times. KC eventually lost 7-5, but we were more interested in the JumboTron sideline action, anyway. After the near-guy-on-guy kiss, the dance-off pitted two duders who sported Hawaiian shirts, plastic leis and grass skirts over their shorts (see video reenactment below). The first contestant, Eric, clad in a yellow shirt, started shaking his ass and his maracas, too. Then he paused, stumbled and fell onto his knees. The second guy, James, won, probably because he managed to remain upright. Eric and James had road-tripped from Minnesota with similarly clad friends. Both were also somewhat lit.

“It’s tradition,” 33-year-old James said of the trek down south. “We come out here, be stupid.”

The only thing 30-year-old Eric could say was: “Mee. Nee. Soh. Tah.”

The costume fun continued when we caught up with two women by the GA concession stands. Heather, a cute 21-year-old brunette, fashioned a large round circle out of a thin foam material. It included a hole for her head and red X’s to resemble baseball stitching. She had written “Royals” in blue cursive across the front. But her baseball poncho was a bit beat-up. “Yeah, we got a little drunk,” said her friend, 22-year-old Chelsea.

It’s just not a Royals game unless you run into someone you know, and we ran into Tariq, a friend from UMKC. He invited us for a post-game tailgate.

In the parking lot, we cracked open cans of Bud Light and surveyed the post-game tailgate scene. Scattered groups of people in their 20s and 30s downed one last beer and tossed around Frisbees and, in one weird case, wrestled each other. So we decided to go to that really cool bar-hopping district that surrounds the stadi — oh, wait. Yeah, we ended up at Paddy O’Quigley’s in the Clarion Hotel (formerly the Adam’s Mark).

The place was a weird mix of suburban hotel bar and suburban sports bar, and it soon attracted a good number of Twins fans. Small TVs took up table space in the booths, each of which was decorated with paraphernalia from Big 12 schools. Sadly, we ordered bottles before we found out about the tube of beer, a yard-high contraption with a spout at its base. Apparently it contains eight pints and costs $22 for domestic and $27 for microbrew.

As we drank, we discussed what our at-bat theme songs would be. Tariq chose the Sanford and Son theme, while John picked the one from Dukes of Hazzard. Cece, in homage to Gob from Arrested Development, went with Europe’s “Final Countdown.”

Just then, Minnesota fans at a neighboring table pointed out that Twins manager Ron Gardenhire was in the bar. We looked over and saw a guy in a light-purple button-down shirt getting mobbed by the crowd. After the photo and autograph seekers subsided, we went over and asked what his at-bat song would be.

“Oh, I think ‘Memories,'” Ron replied.

“The song from Cats?” squawked the NR.

“No, Barbra Streisand. ‘Misty Memories,'” he said, referring to “The Way We Were.”

“Um, OK. Why so?” the NR pressed on.

“That was my at-bat song when I was a player. It’s all misty memories,” he said, before going over to schmooze with more Twins fans.

Light the corners of my mind, indeed — with awesomeness! Forget the Kiss Cam. The way we were after that slightly surreal exchange was positive that this was the best thing that happened that day.