It took a chilly, introspective Tuesday evening in Oakland to learn that being alone is not synonymous with being lonely.
I had purchased one ticket for the second game of the A’s-Mariners series just two days prior on a spring break whim. I’d never seen an M’s game by myself before.
Waiting by myself for the Fremont train in the smelly Berkeley BART station, among throngs of boisterous A’s fans laughing and conversing, I began to regret my whimsy.
Who goes to a baseball game by himself, I wondered. It’s a social event by nature; the slow pace of the game lends to conversation and company. What would I do in the half-innings of inactivity? What are all those people with their friends and their jokes going to think of me, alone in a sea of camaraderie?
These questions ran through my mind as I boarded the train. I found a seat near the window and gazed at the sun setting over the Oakland skyline.
The train arrived, and I took the long walk down the corridor between the BART station and the Oakland Coliseum. Not content with my third-deck seat, I snuck past an usher during the national anthem and found a seat in the first deck, parallel with the left-fielder on the third-base line.
After falling behind one run early, the M’s grabbed the lead for good in the third on a three-run homer from left fielder Mike Morse. I stood up and clapped while the surrounding fans groaned and booed the lone Mariners fan.
As the game wore on and the A’s fell even further behind, fans streamed for the exits. The sun faded into the hills beyond the stadium, and those remaining in the park bundled up with blankets and heavy coats.
Lying in bed later that night, I reflected on my initial hesitancy at the Berkeley BART station.
The game ended up being fun as hell.
I enjoyed analyzing the pitching and fielding of the players without the distraction of my friends. I liked texting my dad and friends watching from home. Sure, there’s plenty to recommend about going to the ballpark with your buddies, but the experience of going to a ballgame by oneself is both vastly different and similarly enjoyable.
My hesitance, I think, stemmed from my perception of the stigmas attached to attending an event alone.
In a vacuum, doing things alone is no big deal. But in my mind, I didn’t want to be the abstract archetype of a friendless loner. Those weren’t the actual circumstances, but my idea of what it meant to go to a baseball game by myself made me feel as if they were.
It’s much lonelier to succumb to your personal insecurities, I figured.
With that thought, I turned out my lamp, laid my head down on my pillow and fell asleep, content as I’d ever been.
Contact Michael Rosen at [email protected]. Follow him on Twitter @michaelrosen3.