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Foul Balls, Frozen Chicken, and 3am Regrets: A Night with My Daughter and The OKC Baseball Club

This past Friday, I tossed out the first pitch of my 2024 Summer of Fun by taking my daughter – a star right-fielder for her T-ball team – to her very first baseball game at Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark in, you guessed it, Bricktown.

At first, she was lukewarm to the idea, but once I told her A) they had Dippin' Dots, B) we could keep any baseballs that we caught, and C) there were fireworks after the game, she was all for it.

It was my first time to catch a minor league game since the pandemic, and there, underneath a beautiful sky, we watched the OKC Baseball Team battle 2016 World Series baserunning hero Albert Almora Jr. and the Reno Aces!

Overall, we both had a lot of fun at the game.

In a nod to Berry Tramel’s upcoming Tulsa World Travel Blog – and to help make the experience a totally justifiable tax expense – I thought I would write a bit more about it.

Here’s my quick report card:

Ballpark Atmosphere – B+

Although the Camden Yards-inspired, old-time retro ballpark architecture that dominated the 90s is now very dated, it still works in dated-Bricktown. It was fun to peek into the park from behind the fence while walking to the front gates down Flaming Lips Alley, and I like the ambiance and touch of three-star chain hotels overlooking the ballpark from the outfield. The seats in the ballpark are comfy, and there’s really not a bad one in the house.

Weather – A+

Oklahoma City has about 10 days of Chamber of Commerce-style weather a year, and Friday was one of them. The weather was a bit on the warm side, but the humidity was non-existent, and as the sun set, the clouds overhead glowed a variety of golden hues, while a cool breeze gently blew in from the northwest.

Concessions – F+

My daughter will eat about 10 different things in this world, and Bricktown Ballpark, to its credit, carried about half of them. That’s why the concessions get an F+ as opposed to a regular F.

Here’s a synopsis...

Before the game started, I grabbed her a $7 slice of cheese pizza that looked like it was baked the day before at Little Caesars and then re-heated in the toaster oven. I wasn’t expecting some sort of world-class pie, but it at least needs to be better than what they dish out at the Bricktown Domino's down the street. She ate half of it before saying she was “full.”

In the third inning, she – like I assume every kid at the stadium – said she wanted Dippin’ Dots. That was an easy task because the ballpark has like 10 different Dippin’ Dots kiosks dotted around the concourse. As a guy who once waited 15 minutes at a Thunder game to get his kid some Dippin’ Dots, I appreciate this convenience, but it does seem excessive. Who knows? Maybe they do it to prevent OKC native Scott Fischer – the former Dippin’ Dots CEO – from getting drunk and naked and causing a scene and AirDropping revenge porn to everyone at the game.

After scoring some Cookies and Cream Dippin’ Dots, I ordered a chicken finger basket with potato wedges. When we got back into our seats, I bit into one of those fingers, and it was frozen solid on the inside. I cautiously bit into the others, and they had the same fate. I didn’t want to disturb the kid as she happily dug into her futuristic ice cream, so I just loudly complained in my seat and munched on some wedges before sliding my cryogenically frozen chicken finger basket under my seat.

In the fifth inning, the kid asked if she could get popcorn, so we walked up to that kiosk and, while waiting in the back of the line, I noticed the Tower Theatre dude. I wanted to give him a fist bump and thank him for giving me controversial content to write about, but I figured it would be best to leave him alone.

When it was finally our turn to order, I was naturally forced into getting the popcorn that came inside a giant souvenir baseball helmet. We then went back to our seats, and my daughter started plowing through the popcorn like she needed to gain weight to walk onto the Nebraska football team. I wanted to say “Slow down a bit,” but she usually has the appetite of an anorexic mouse, so I amusingly watched the spectacle.

Of course, I would regret this decision at around 3am when she woke me up to let me know she just threw up the popcorn – and everything else she ate at the stadium – all over her bed. But in the moment, I thought it was cute and fun.

Anyway, because the chicken fingers were cold, the pizza sucked, and I’m pretty sure we both got food poisoning, the concessions get a very low score.

Team Name and Mascots – D+

Back in December, I wrote an article about the team’s decision to switch their moniker from Dodgers to the OKC Baseball Team. I thought it was a dumb idea then, and – after trying to explain to a six-year-old why our team doesn’t have a “name” – I think it’s an even dumber idea now.

“Daddy. What is our team called?”

“Well, we don’t have a name. We’re the OKC Baseball Club!”


“Well, that’s a good question. It’s complicated.”


“Well, we’re just OKC?”


Seriously, for the sake of all parents with curious kids, couldn’t they have come up with a stupid temporary team name for a year? For example, in honor of the team’s Bricktown home, they could have called them the Acmes, Pavers, or Water Taxis.

In all fairness, had we gone to a Thursday night game instead, the question would have been a tad easier to answer.

Throughout the season, the team is having 89er Thursdays where – outside of bringing back the Coors Light Diamond Girls and installing a temporary grassy hill to occupy the left field line – they’re playing as the OKC 89ers.

In my article from December, I – a white dude who has fond memories of All Sports Stadium and is the great-great-grandson of an 89er who helped colonize the Capitol Hill and Del City area – touched on how this could be a bit problematic.

The 89ers name once made sense, but with the recent push to not celebrate white-manifested mythologies that glorify the conquering of North American native peoples during the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, it’s probably best to keep the old 89ers moniker in the nostalgia bin.

That being said, I think everyone – from the wokest woke to the rightest righty – would appreciate the irony in watching the 89ers play at Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark.

I went on to suggest that, as a compromise, they rebrand the team the Abners in honor of old Abner 89ers – the beloved 89ers mascot that legions of Gen-Xers remember with only the fondest of hearts.

I don’t know where it is, but somewhere, someplace, there’s an old Abner 89er mascot costume outfit collecting dust in an old storage bin. If you’re the owner of that, please donate it to the Oklahoma History Center. We can't let the out-of-state Dodgers owners gain possession of it.

I don’t know if they found the old Abner costume, but I guess the people who run the team read this website, because look who they brought back this season!

Yep, that’s right! Abner 89er lives on, in a very deformed and demented type of way.

I’m honestly not sure what I think of this new Ozempic faced Abner they break out on Thursdays, but he’s way better than the alternative – the dog wolves Brix and Brooklyn:

To clarify, Oklahoma City’s baseball team doesn’t have a mascot, but our logo mimics the Dodgers, and we have two canine creatures running around the field entertaining people, except on Thursdays when we pay tribute to a beloved nickname that is difficult and tricky to pull off in today’s ultra-cognizant-of-the-negative-consequences-of-history age.

That’s confusing as Hell, and it’s why they get a D+.

Fireworks – Incomplete:

By the time the 8th inning rolled around, the kid was starting to do things that bored, tired kids who are coming off a sugar high, up way past their bedtime, and going to be sick in six hours start to do.

With the game being tied in the late innings and there being uncertainty on when the Friday night fireworks would begin, we headed home early and missed the Oklahoma City Baseball Club (Except on Thursdays) comeback.

Overall Experience: B

When you take into account the tickets, concessions, and Pedialyte my mom dropped off for the kid and me the following morning, I’d guesstimate we spent about $80 - $100 at the game.

That’s probably more than you should spend for a minor league baseball game, but despite the cold chicken fingers, confusing team name, and a late-night encounter with food poisoning, our evening was a fun and memorable one.

The beautiful weather, nostalgic atmosphere, and the simple joy of watching my daughter devour some Dippin’ Dots while hoping she could catch a foul ball that would never arrive made it worth it. We’ll definitely catch another OKC Baseball Club game in the future, preferably when the weather is nice and they have a proper team name and mascot.

Stay with The Lost Ogle. We’ll keep you advised.

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