6/1/26 — Mets vs Mariners
Pride night happened to fall on a Monday this year. Last year, just Leo and Nadia went with a couple friends while I stayed home with Nina. This year, the whole family came out.
We joined a large group in the upper deck on the third base side. On our way up the stairs, Nadia talked to Leo about what Pride is. Leo knew the gist of it, something about being happy and being gay. There’s a familiarity with queer culture in Seattle that just wasn’t there growing up in Texas in the 90s, and Nadia and I wondered sometimes if Leo had any idea the risks and sacrifices the queer people we knew growing up made. But I think Leo lives in two worlds: the one we help construct for him and the one outside of our presence. Once, Leo came home from school and asked us why someone called him gay, and we could only piece together that this was probably meant as an insult, which confused him and surprised us.
We met our group of friends when we found our seats; a few of them were as neurotic as me about getting there in time to see the first pitch on a Monday night. The bridge to this whole crowd was E, who we’ve known for quite a few years. E came out as nonbinary a couple years ago, when Leo was a toddler; I think he’s still trying to understand what it means, but so are a lot of adults.
Through E, I’d inherited a broader circle of lovely people, and tonight I was reminded how this crew does in fact know ball. We dug our trenches early in the upper deck, arguing pitch counts, hyping the young guys, geeking out over Hancock’s turnaround success story, discussing what hex must be made to ensure the success of the season. “Randy hit by pitch, again? That guy can crowd a plate; we love him anyway.” A shared knowing glance.
We oohed at Hancock strikeouts and muttered about the two homers he gave up. Still a good outing. We got giddy over watching a young Colt Emerson home run. “Did we look like that at 20??? I feel like we didn’t look thaaaat young.”
There was also a Pride-themed memory game on the Jumbotron that incorporated disco balls, bears, and U-hauls. We unfortunately weren’t able to score the Pride jerseys this year; the special tickets sold out. From fear of being ignorant, I hesitantly asked E what the ‘26 meant on the back of the Pride jersey, wondering if it was of importance to the queer community.
“I think that’s just the year,” they laughed. I just wanted to make sure I was staying humble as an ally at Pride Night, I joked.
The tarps came off that night. We had the perfect view of the crowd of (I’m assuming) mostly men waving their shirts around the empty right field upper deck. At one point, in an attempt to playfully start a rally, they appeared shirtless on the Jumbotron with a “We Otter Rally!” slogan attached. The poetic moment was not lost on our group. Later, Leo and I hugged after a Josh Naylor home run.
”You know, for Pride Night, the music has been aggressively heterosexual,” joked a friend in the crowd. I did recall hearing more Whitney Houston than ever before at T-Mobile Park, but their point stood. We must alert the authorities. “Also, the camera operator really loves that one lesbian.” We all nodded.
After 4 home runs in 5 hits, the game went into extra innings. The bullpen was so incredibly solid. Speier handled the ghost runner in the 10th like it was nothing. In the bottom of the 10th Minter checks Randy twice at second in a 3–2 count. He steals third on strike three.
Across the stadium, the neon lights along the roof glow rainbows over the fluttering tarps of the shirtless crowd. It’s beautiful. For reasons we can’t explain, Leo, E, and I balance shoes on our heads. Cole Young breaks his bat with a blooper that drops into left field as Randy jogs home to make it 3–2.
Our section erupts along with the entire park as the team squirts Young with squeeze bottles and puts a bubble gum bucket on his head. Leo and I have never questioned why or how this walkoff tradition came to be for the Mariners. Some things just are what they are.
On our way out of the park, we paused. The yellow, orange, and violet sky draped over the Olympic Mountains. Elliott Bay reflected the beautiful scene as ships rippled through it. We are just so lucky we get to live here every day, I started gushing. Before leaving, the group hugged and wished each other farewell.
Final: Mariners 3, Mets 2
Seats: Section 339, Row 7
Memory: Aggressively heterosexual music, tarps off, shoes on heads