on Baseball: The Perfect Setting for a First Date

Baseball is boring. Even baseball fans agree with this. I grew up in Chicago, where people take baseball very seriously. There’s a reason your grandpa loves baseball: It’s because he can nap in the middle of the game. You shouldn’t be able to eat while playing a sport, but baseball is so slow that the players do. Bubble gum, seeds, and even fried chicken. Have a bit of a beer belly but still want to play a professional sport? Baseball is for you. Players are literally mic’d up and talking to announcers while playing in the outfield. Baseball is a waiting game, like fishing. Or looking for a parking spot at a mall in December. It's a sport that was built to be boring, and the boring is what makes baseball an ideal date.

But don’t I want to go on a date that is fun, you say? No I do not. Fun dates are overrated. A date is for getting to know one another, not getting to know your indoor skydiving instructor, Chett. Fuck Chett! A boring date is a perfect litmus test for if you actually like a person, because guess what? Life itself is often boring, and you want someone who you can still have fun with. In fact, my theory about why so many Bachelor franchise couples break up is that they went on too many fun dates—dates that made a dull partner seem more fun than they really are.

From “striking out” to “the bases”—from being “out of someone’s league” to “rain checks”—baseball and dating are already inextricably linked. As they well should be. Live sports make great dates in general, whether you’re into sports or not: Even before I knew I was the type of person who likes sports, I had fun at baseball games. Why? Because unlike a radio broadcast of a baseball game, you’re not really there to pay attention to anyone's swing, or to scrutinize how the relief pitcher always gives away too many runs. You’re there to shout while drinking, which is very enjoyable on a primal level.

A baseball game is like being at an interactive bar. You’re there to get novelty food and drinks at Disney World prices and then watch something live that you don’t have to be quiet for. Every other performance—movies and plays, and especially your friend’s terrible improv show—requires silence. Sports are an open call to be talkative and even yell…ative? Yellative? I think I just invented a word. Anyways, games are made for loud, ugly laughter and spilling nacho cheese on your pants. They invite you to get buzzed on overpriced beer a little too early in the evening.

The great thing about baseball, in particular, is that if you’ve been in America for more than 45 minutes, you probably already know the rules. And if you don’t, you’ll learn the basics by the top of the third. You don’t need to be a sporty spice who knows what counts as traveling or high-sticking, or what “distinct kicking motion” means. You don’t even need to learn offsides. In baseball, they’re taking damn turns! If you’re still not getting it, text your dad a question about the game and have the first honest-to-goodness emotional connection you’ve ever had with him. Again, though, the game at hand isn't really the point. At least not for you and your date. The point is talking and eating and drinking—normal date activities—with the extra layer of getting emotionally invested in something together that isn’t a kid or a pet. Baseball has all the team-building of putting together an Ikea bookshelf without the mocking silence of those creepy humanoids in the instruction manual.

And after all that hard work you did, drinking and yelling at millionaires while they do their jobs, you get to take your half-buzzed self home on the metro in a sleepy daze. You’re not too full, because you can’t afford to be. By the time the three light beers you had are just about to wear off, you arrive home, have one more glass of something—probably Malbec because that’s what everyone says they like right now—and then have some sleepy, buzzy, sweaty post-game sex. Home run date!