When Alden was very little, my Dad and I took her to a baseball game in Kansas City. Since then, none of the kids have set foot in a professional sporting venue. Until last Friday night. When we packed everyone up, drove to Baltimore, and settled in for a night with the Orioles and Red Sox.

Our adventure began in Federal Hill, where we parked in a cobblestone alley, excited and ready for anything.

A few blocks away, we beheld our destination, the magnificent Camden Yards. If you have never been, then you must go.

While we were waiting for our friends to show up, the boys did some adventuring in the thick jungle outside the park.

The place was packed. Apparently, other people like baseball, too.

We were there with friends. Good friends. Great friends, in fact.

How lucky is it that my old pal Christian just happened to settle in Baltimore? And that our kids get to grow up knowing one another so well?

Here is the view from our seats. Though we were rather high in the stands we were right behind the plate, which made for a clear view of the proceedings but a difficult time reading the depth of fly balls. I called at least a dozen home runs that turned out not to be.

The kids were excited when we got there. Alden reported that there were “probably a zillion,” people in attendance. August reported that, as much as he loves Alden, she didn’t have to hug him quite so hard.

Kato, who loves swinging a bat, was more than a little disappointed to learn that he wasn’t invited to be part of the game. He had thought we were coming to play baseball and was having difficulty wrapping his mind around why people would go to such lengths just to watch it.

I show you this picture as a surrogate for what we should be showing you. Notice the big screen at the far end of the stadium. The larger-than-life video display that shows the replays and, throughout the game, clips of enthusiastic fans mugging for the camera?

Well, at one such juncture (perhaps in the middle of the fourth inning), the cameras spotted August, who was sitting in my lap at the time, and the kid’s gigantic head filled the entirety of that gigantic screen. Alas, Robbi was so busy trying to get my attention (that I might see it up there) that she forgot to take a picture. But I must admit that it was pretty exciting to see him up there, if only for a moment.

It was a tight game, one that the Orioles won 2-0. Having spent so many years living in New England, I have emerged as a Red Sox fan, something that doesn’t play well in the mid-Atlantic. And as much as I enjoy my loyalty to the Sox, I’m not sure I want to inflict it on my kids. I hope that they grow up rooting for the home team, though I might have to draw the line if they decide to root for Maryland basketball.

The game was all decided by the bottom of the eighth, so we slipped out a little early in order to beat the crowds.

But not before stopping to mug with a large, yellow bird.

As much as I love cobblestones, I love them even more by lamplight.

As we were driving past Camden Yards on our way out of town, fireworks were happening. I guess beating the Red Sox is a cause for great celebration.

By the time we got home, it was late. How late? This late.