A Day at the Park
When I first learned the date that we would sing, and that it would be a day game we sang at, I thought “Oh, man, that’s going to be brutal.” July 30th in Washington, DC, at 1:30 in the afternoon, is not what you expect to be a delightful time, weatherwise.
But, oh, it was. We couldn’t have ordered up a nicer afternoon to sing the National Anthem in front of God and 35,000 fans at Nationals Park before the first of two games to be played that day.
It began with making sure I got there on time. We had to be there by 10:15 a.m., outside the First Base entrance to the park, 3 ¼ hours before the first pitch, in order to gain entrance to the park hours before they let the general public in. We have to get in then, so we can perform our soundcheck with the stadium’s sound system, which involves the whole group going out onto the field, singing the Star Spangled Banner through a couple of times, until we get the thumbs-up from the park’s sound guy.
I got there by driving down to the building I work in, about two miles away from the park, then making my way over to the park from there. I was going to walk it, but decided to Uber, instead. While I was waiting for my Uber ride to appear, standing on the corner of 12th and Independence, James approached me, asking what I was all dressed up for.
James is one of the guys who makes a living, sort of, waiting at the top of the escalator from the Smithsonian Metro stop, which is right in front of the USDA building, accosting tourists with “help” finding what they’re looking for, in terms of touristy destinations in the district. He has pamphlets, which he gets for free from the Smithsonian museum, with information about where to go to see what. After he helps someone find where they’re going, he puts his hand out, making it obvious that his “service” is not free. He does alright at this living, taking advantage of unsuspecting tourists. In a way, it’s a win-win deal — they find where they need to go, and he takes whatever they can afford to give him, usually a buck or two, though some are more generous.
“I’m singing the national anthem at today’s ballgame”.
“Git out, no you’re not!”
“Sure, I am. Why else would I be wearing a red polo and a blue blazer on a day like this?”
“What are you doing here, then?”
“Waiting for my Uber ride. I work here, so I parked my car in that lot.”
“Can you get me a job here?”
“No, but I can give you a number to call to see what’s available.”
We exchanged phone numbers, and my Uber arrived. James went back to accosting tourists coming up out of the Metro.
I got out by the park entrance, in the blazing sun — it was particularly bright and hot right there in that spot — and was all proud of myself for being the first one there. Then, I glanced across the street, and saw about 15 of my fellow singers standing in a shady spot over there. Not only could these guys sing — they were also pretty smart! I walked across the street to join them. I got to know a few of the new guys better while we waited.
This would be my fifth gig with this outfit, sixth if you count the game we came to sing at, that got rained out. We got to come back a month later, when the game got made up, to sing it again.
I’m not a member of the Singing Capital Chorus — I’m a guest singer. I only join them once a year, to sing the National Anthem at Nationals Park. They keep inviting me back each year, so I must be an okay singer. It is always one of the highlights of my summer, and this time was no exception.
Once everyone had arrived — I was about a half hour early, and we waited an extra fifteen minutes, until the young ladies from the Nationals came out to get us — we went through security, were given Field passes to wear around our necks, then were led, in groups of ten, through the bowels of the stadium to our locker room, which is normally the ladies’ socker locker room.
There, I found a locker, hung my coat up in it, and waited for the call to go sing, for the soundchecks. That’s when I get to walk out onto the field of a major league ballpark, look up at all the stands, look out upon that big baseball field, and know that I will once again have the privilege of singing to all the fans in those stands, soon. It never gets old, for me.
Take a grown man, put him on the field of a major league baseball park, and he transforms into a little kid, remembering all the times he dreamed of being on one of these fields. There is something magical about it. It always gets me.
This time, after our checks, we got to hang out on the field as long as we wanted to. I stayed for about a half hour. Since it was a day game, there was no Batting Practice — when we sing at night games, we get to stay out there to watch the Nationals take batting practice. But, this might have been even cooler. The guard let me hang out by the Nationals dugout, and even got a picture coming up out of the dugout.
Then, it was time to get ready to sing, for real. Back in the locker room, we went through our final rehearsals, working at getting the sound just right. The chorus sang a few “tags”, special endings they’ve come up with to different songs, that is sort of their “signature” on those songs, then we got the call to go sing.
Out onto the field we went again, this time with lots of fans in the stands — as we lined up to sing, I heard “Hey, Pete!”, and knew that was my friend Rick, somewhere up there, here to watch me sing, again. He’s been here for four of the six times I sang. This time, his lovely wife, Ujjaini, was here, as well. She got someone to take her shift at the airport, where she works, just to be here to hear me sing. Rick’s just about my best friend, and Ujjaini has become a good friend, as well, over the past couple of years.
We nailed the Anthem. It is so glorious to be a part of singing it. This time, I was less nervous, and more “there”, than I ever was. I think I enjoyed it more, this time, than ever. The whole experience was simply wonderful.
After we sang, I saw Tom Davis, who runs the Racing Presidents. I reminded him that I am available to run, at any time, and that it would be a chance for us to make Major League Baseball History together — I would be the first person, ever, to both sing the National Anthem, and race with the Racing Presidents, in the same game. He laughed, and instead of just saying, “No, Pete — not happening.”, this time, he said, “Hmmm — maybe.” I told him he knew where to find me. He has my number.
He never called, but at least I had some hope. I stayed ready, right up until the 4th inning, when the presidents come out onto the field, in their 12 foot tall costumes, which are mostly comprised by the 60 pound heads, that you have to wear on your shoulders, as you run. I’ve tried out for them twice, back when I was 53 and 54 years old. I’m 62 now, but know I could still do it. I could be a contender! Tom never called.
But, I didn’t care. I enjoyed the rest of the game sitting with my friends, Rick and Ujjaini, enjoying the game, great friendship, ballpark food, and relishing in a life that is beyond my wildest dreams. The Nats got creamed, but we didn’t care. We got to see Ryan Zimmerman break the all-time home run record for the Nationals, with a rocket shot off the facing of the second level in right field, which was great to see.
It was such a fine afternoon, we walked the two miles back to where their car was parked, in front of L’Enfant Plaza, then they drove me to my car.
