Even more on men: Baseball

Tonight I went to see the newly reborn local minor league franchise, The Riverhawks, with my dad and our friend David. The team played the Chillicothe Paints. Much discussion ensued on where the heck Chillicothe was... perhaps Indiana or Iowa? Finally, we settled on Kentucky or Tennessee after learning that the Paints mascot was a horse and not a can of Sherwin-Williams.
Chillicothe is in southern Ohio, however.
Huh.
A Riverhawk, in case you're wondering, is a fuzzy blue bird-man named Rocko. It has an oversized head, its native habitat is the ballfield and its mating rituals involved T-shirt giveaways and strange promotional contests. Riverhawks no longer exist in the wild, apparently.
Anyway, it rained most of the game and the Riverhawks went down 3-0, managing one measly hit in all 9 innings of water-soaked play. Perhaps rain delays are against the rules in the minors.
But baseball is more than just hits and pitches. Tonight, it also included a hot dog, a large lemonade, an order of nachos, a super pretzel and a polish sausage.
And lots of yelling in an attempt to win the strange promotional items.