The morning started with an incredibly ominous storm at dawn which drenched the city, threatened a tornado and lit the purple sky with scary branches of lightening. It woke me in the hotel on the tenth floor. It was a wonderful thing to watch. Like a great baseball game, it created tension. By early evening the sky was friendly and clear.

Imagine a perfect night at the ballpark on a breezy Labor Day evening at Kauffman Stadium. First things first. There were enough cops directing traffic and enough entrance lanes to the stadium. Driving and parking were pretty much hassle free even with a good crowd on hand. The Yankees always draw well on the road.

I passed a gigantic grocery cart, say the size of two jumbo pick-up trucks stacked on top of each other. The cart was motorized and somehow involved Price-Chopper food for charity events. While trying to find the complimentary ticket counter, some cowboy hopped in the giant grocery cart and sped away, his engine sounding like a couple of Harleys at once. The giant cart would be seen, heard and felt.

Upon locating the ticket counter, the agent in the booth didn't have my name on the list. Paul forgot again. He's genuinely preoccupied. "How many you like, hon?" the lady at the counter asked. A cute, nosey-earred little boy behind me at the booth squeaked that I was Paul's brother to his mother. She told him not to bother me and I said it was o.k.; I've got kids of my own. When Paul forgot in Boston in 1998, I had to stand there and argue for fifteen minutes waiting for another official to officialize me.

Starving as I approached my seats, I found a ham sandwich and a nice amber beer brewed near Kansas City. The food was pretty much ballpark... bring your available fat-gram allotment. But it was nice that the vendors didn't scream their product in my ears as loud as they could.

The game was a pitching duel. The main story was Andy Pettitte keeping hitters off balance, except Mike Sweeney who hit him hard. In the fourth inning, the Royal's mascot, a happy lion, started shooting hot dogs out of a little cannon down on the crowd. People reached for the flying weiners like foul balls.

The Yankees got an early lead and then the game slowed down to a chess-like pace. I had time to ponder. Kauffman Stadium was built in 1973 and is a beautiful place to watch baseball. The fountains and the shrubbery in the outfield are so much more appealing than more seats stuffed into centerfield, say like, Riverfront Stadium built in 1970, a temple to profit, seats everywhere, but few beautiful views in a slow game. The gigantic scoreboard, at least five stories, shaped like the crown of a king, kept the fans interested. It showed some video of Royal's first base coach Frank White hitting a big homerun against the Cardinals in the 1985 World Series which Kansas City won.

After enjoying the hotdog launch, I needed some more action. I walked to the Mezzanine at field level and looked at players and people enshrined in the Royals Hall of Fame. Monument Park this wasn't. But I will always remember Freddie Patek, a reminder how small men (5'4") could still play modern baseball. John Mayberry, a tall, lefthanded slugger, I'd forgotten over the years. Whitey Herzog coached here. Dan Quisenberry relieved.

Getting back to the seats, Pettitte had gotten in some trouble. Two guys were on base. A line drive screamed up the middle. Pettitte flailed, somehow catching the ball and doubling the runner up at first. It was the pivotal play of the game. Rivera came to close in the ninth and ended up with bases loaded. The batter ripped one to center that looked like it had distance. Bernie Williams had been taken out in the second inning. Clay Bellinger, positioned beautifully, snagged it, ending the game.

Suddenly, all the lights in the stadium went off. The sound system blared some Rolling Stone's songs. The fountains turned orange and blue and green like a moving painting against the black sky. A barrage of fireworks went up behind the giant scoreboard, a seemingly endless grand finale. If this was the way baseball was supposed to be, I'd take it.