Almost every night, my parents sit in front of the colorful box with flashy pictures and occasionally yell at it. I think my dad calls it "baseball," and I only know what half of that word means. It's usually around dinner time; I will sit in front of my mom with hopes that she will drop some human food on the ground. My parents call themselves "Mariner Fans." I'm not really sure what that means either.

Dad will stare at the flashy picture box harder than I stare at my cookie jar after I was good on a walk. He talks to his friends in there, "Come on, Kyle, get on base!" I have never met this "Kyle" in my life! My parents experience a lot of emotional ups and downs because of 'baseball,' or maybe it's because of dad's friend Kyle. They will both yell with their hands in the air, which took some getting used to. I couldn't tell if they were happy or mad, or if I was in trouble. Baseball is stressful. But every day is basically the same, howling at the colorful box across from the couch.

Yesterday my mom took me to a Mariners game; there were so many friends there. I guess it was a special night where humans could bring doggos like me. I got a treat bag when we walked in, and there was grass INSIDE for me to pee on. Everywhere you look, kids are dropping their fries and popcorn. So this was baseball?

But let me tell you, I thought mom and dad got worked up over the Mariners... We were in a giant building with a thousand more Mariner fans screaming at Kyle. HEY! That's my dad's friend, back off! I look to my other doggo friends for support – some of us are on our parents' laps, licking their faces to distract them from a six-run deficit. Others are barking along with their human counterparts, "give me the ball!" Some of my friends were hiding under their human's legs; I've been there.

"Mariner Fans," as my parents call them, act like spoiled doggos 100% of the time. Show up to the game excited beyond all belief; my parents think I freak out on the way to the dog park. You should've seen my mom when we walked into the stadium. Your human immediately get all of their favorite things at once: beer, hat, fries, hot dogs. I prefer sticks, tennis balls, squirrels and trash from the beach. I couldn't believe my paws at the amount of kiddos that came up to love on me and give me cookies.

We walk all the way to the top of this enormous building, and the grass is all the way at the bottom. Not to mention, I didn't get to play fetch at all. What kind of park is this anyway? Baseball is the combination of the best and the most confusing things ever; I get all sorts of treats and meet all sorts of friends, but even up 'til the very end, I never got a ball.

My human felt the same by the end of it all – she got all the treats and saw her friends (even Kyle), but at the end of it all, the Mariners didn't win it.