LONG STORY SHORT By Kristine McGowan Two big things happened over the last couple weeks. First, I’m thrilled to share that we got our slide-out fixed--and our insurance covered most of the cost to repair it. Our sighs of relief could be heard for miles around. Second, we completed one of our primary goals for the Big Trip: A few days ago, we watched our last baseball game of the season, and now Jason can say that he’s seen a game at 29 of the 30 Major League Baseball ballparks. Why 29? Why not 30? Well, we skipped the Oakland Coliseum because, as Jason puts it, “The A’s owner is stupid.” (In other words, he jacked the ticket prices so high that we weren’t willing to pay.) So Jason hasn’t quite reached the MLB-stadium finish line, but this feels like an accomplishment regardless. After all, most diehard baseball fans spend years, not 18 months, crossing so many ballparks off their lists. As for casual, not-super-into-baseball fans like me—well. Now that I’ve seen 28 ballparks, maybe I can’t call myself a “casual” baseball fan anymore.* Jason and I agree that visiting so many ballparks has given us a deeper appreciation for this sport. Sure, I mostly went to those games to make my partner happy. But over time, this turned into something bigger than just helping Jason to meet a personal goal. At every game, Jason would text his friends and dad from our seats, and I would send a photo of us at the ballpark to my parents. If we were about to watch our Los Angeles Angels play, we’d commiserate with my parents about their lackluster performance this season. At the same time, Jason’s dad would remind us how well his Dodgers were doing. Before we knew it, this little goal of ours had turned into something we were sharing with the other people in our lives. Even as a not-so-casual baseball fan, I can appreciate that. Maybe we’ll eventually check off the 30th ballpark when the A’s get their new stadium (assuming we can stomach the owner’s antics then). For now, we’re happy with what we’ve done. And now, we’re setting our sights on the other goal of our Big Trip. National parks, we’re coming for you. Where have we been?Chicago, Ill.  Yes, we’ve already visited Chicago, but we only managed to squeeze in a White Sox game then. (Why yes, they did lose that game. How’d you guess?) So we had to come back for the Cubs. Wrigley Field may not have all the attractions of modern-day stadiums, but you can’t deny its charm and special place in baseball history. I don’t think any baseball fan—casual or diehard—can look at that iconic sign without feeling their heart squeeze a little. Cooperstown, N.Y.  This stop might make up for our skipping the Oakland Coliseum. Cooperstown is home to the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, and after everything else we’ve done for baseball this year, you know we aren’t going to miss out on that. We strolled through the plaque gallery and several historical exhibits, including one dedicated to today’s ballparks. It almost felt like the Hall of Fame had captured our seasons-long ballpark tour in a single room. Boston, Mass.  We came to Boston for many reasons—to see Jason’s sister, eat some clam chowder, and explore the city—but of course, baseball featured high on the list. Fenway Park would host our last game of the trip, and to get the full experience, we took a tour of the oldest ballpark in MLB before attending the game later in the day. With 112 years of history, Fenway is a museum unto itself and perhaps the greatest homage to fans’ love of the sport. It seemed only right to end our ballpark tour here. Where are we going next?It’s time for a true New England fall! But before we go leaf peeping, we’re flying home for a wedding, so we won’t head to Maine until next week. For that reason, we’ll send our next newsletter in three weeks’ time rather than the usual two. See you then!  127. Boston, Mass. 128. Acadia National Park, Maine 129. White Mountains, N.H. 130. Burlington, Vt. 131. Montreal, Quebec 132. Hartford, Conn. 133. New Haven, Conn. 134. Shenandoah National Park, Va. * Unlike Jason, I have not set foot inside Dodger Stadium. My parents are devoted Angels fans, and when I was growing up, they treated Dodger Stadium as if it were as radioactive as Chernobyl.
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