Back home again after far too long.

Monday, I didn't get out of work until 5:30. A last-minute emergency project reared its ugly head, and I had the pleasure of prepping a laptop for someone to ship cross-country later that night. Of course, as expected, nothing went right, and I wasn't able to deliver the laptop until after most shipping places closed, but I wasn't about to let a bad laptop go out to someone...especially someone of importance...and have it fail on him. It looks bad for him, it looks bad for the University, and it looks really bad on me.

That ain't gonna happen, kids.

So, after leaving the office after a 10 hour day, one would think I would just want to go home and collapse.

Well, that's what you'd think. Me, I decided on other things...

June had come around already, and I still had not been to my home-away-from-home. I'd heard her call me. She whispered my name on the breeze like a lover summoning me, and I knew I could never resist.

The ballpark was calling me home for the last few months, but there were things preventing me from going...family, weather, funds...but no more, I decided. Tonight, I was going home.

I've waxed romantic about baseball before, so I shall try not to bore you with why I love this game too much. Yes, I could talk about the mental aspects, the psychology of pitching and batting. The drama that unfolds within nine innings of play. The subtle things the game has that draws me in and captures my attention like little can.

I could speak about the hope one has at the start of the season, and the start of each game. Hope that you have for your team to win, to take the pennant, to bring the glory of the championship back and how they share in the glory of winning with their loyal fans. I could tell you that, but given that Pittsburgh hasn't had a winning season in going on 15 years, I'd be lying.

Instead, I'll just let the pictures say more, and in a far better way, than I could ever dream of doing.

Instead, let me just share with you this gem, this cathedral, this ballpark that I call my home away from home. Taking my seat in the last row behind home plate, you can see it all. There's not a bad seat in the house, but to capture the majesty of this setting, nothing can beat Section 117, Row JJ, Seat 25. You can see Pittsburgh's skyline, a backdrop against the outfield, the skyscrapers towering over like monuments to that which has come before.

The field, where hopes and dreams are brought as offerings to the gods of baseball, each team hoping their prayer be heard and the winds carry their ball out of the park, or just let it drop in shallow right field.

You can see the antics of the fans on the big screen, dancing and cheering between innings (when they're not updating you with scores from out of town, showing plays of the week or Godzilla vs. Mothra...and no, I'm not making that last one up). It's also a great seat to watch people...those in their seats before you and those looking for something to eat, or a souvenir to remember the experience, behind.

And through it all, with the game on the field, the crowds around you, the energy and the life and all the magic that those produce, it's also just a great place to stop, breathe and be. Take in the moment. Savor that memory, that feeling that for just one moment, you can be a kid again. You can know what it's like to be free, to not have to worry about work, bills, family, life...whatever. Savor the moment, let the game take you.

Of course, then the home team loses another one-run game, and it's the mad dash to your car and fight 15,000 other fans to get back on the road and back to life.

That doesn't matter, however. For one fleeting moment, for a few hours...I was home. Back at my ballpark.

Back where I belong.