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Day 36 [2000 hrs.] - “There are few things better, than Game Seven.”

“THERE ARE FEW THINGS BETTER, THAN GAME SEVEN.”

STARDATE 57647.67
APRIL 15, 2381
2000 HRS

[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Holodeck 02 | Deck 08 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: Attn: @Brutus @chXinya

This would certainly be a treat.

It had all come about by mishap, but a most fortuitous mishap in Fisher’s estimation. Hidden among a batch of massive files that had been intercepted, downloaded, and backlogged into the main computer core for later review and access, there was an official Holo-Recording of Game Seven, of the 2380 Cestus Series; the best-of-seven game series hosted each year on Cestus III, where the two very best teams of the 10-team league would meet to crown a champion. From what he’d heard, Warrant Officer Ravenholm hadn’t even realized what had been included in that massive file download, and were it not for Commander Stark’s review of those files, Fisher might never have been made aware of it’s existence either. Of course, being the big baseball afficionado that he was, he tried to follow the results of the Cestus Baseball League, founded on Cestus III in 2370, but sometimes that was easier said than done. After all, spies rarely had time to appropriately review the less important entertainment news being shared on Federation News Networks.

Still, Fisher had found his way to adopting one of the 10-teams of the League to be a fan of, settling on the one that reminded him of home the most, the Prairieview Green Sox. Back home in Boston, the Red Sox, of which the Prairieview team had clearly taken inspiration from, were one of the more notable and legendary teams of the Major Leagues. Unfortunately though, the 2380 season had not been a particularly kind one for his Green Sox, who languished early on due to a lack of competent Starting Pitching, and by the end of the season, when they had actually managed to find some, they were too far down in the standings to mount any kind of a comeback. They wound up finishing fourth in their division, missing out on the playoffs for the second time in three years. It’d been a rough trio of years for the Green Sox, who had won the Cestus Series as recently as 2377.

Regardless, Fisher had loved the Cestus League enough to tune into radio-casts whenever he could source one.

All the way back to when he was a boy in Boston, he had loved the old sport. America’s Pass Time, it was once known as. His love was probably a condition of where he’d grown up, where Baseball was something of a cultural asset, combined with a family tradition that had been passed down from one generation to the next. One of the first holodeck programs he’d ever experienced, had been a recreation of old Fenway Park, the timeless home of the Boston Red Sox, that had eventually fallen into disrepair and neglect after the Third World War. The cathedral to the sport crumbled, only to later in the latter half of the 21st-century be demolished and forgotten by a people who didn’t have time for such considerations. In the centuries since though, there had been a serious regret among the people of Boston to have lost such a cherished and rich aspect of their culture. The old park had meant that much to so many, Fisher included, that the isolinear catalogue he carried with him between missions, included no less than a hundred holodeck recreations of famous games that took place there.

But each of those games, Fisher had seen a dozen times over, and had even begun to memorize the events of them.

This, however, was a different prospect. It was a game he’d known the outcome of, but hadn’t seen, or even read the box-score of. It was also of a baseball league that still existed and operated. Even now, the Cestus Baseball League was in the midst of their 2381 Spring-Training preseason. Therefore, it was an altogether new experience, he imagined. There was also the added detail, that it was indeed a ‘Game Seven’, which carried with it an incredible connotation for anyone who understood sports. It was the penultimate contest. There would be no more chances afterward. Which meant that teams, and players would go all-in on the effort to win, intensifying the drama of the event. Most of the greatest games in sports history, were of the ‘Game Seven’ variety, and from what he’d heard, this one would be no different.

So, when Commander Stark forwarded the file onto Fisher, as she’d discovered his interest in the sport during the little get senior staff together, she’d organized a few nights earlier, Fisher jumped at the opportunity to plug it into a Holodeck and experience it firsthand. As such, he found it only appropriate to invite the Second Officer to join him, as she had at least expressed a passing knowledge of the game, and were it not for her, he never would’ve had the chance to enjoy it. Plus, it was a chance for Fisher to better get to know his 2XO, on a different level. Fisher had also extended the invitation to PWO Ravenholm, as her diligent work had been the impetus for the file even being added to the ship’s archive in the first place. Even if she didn’t understand the game, he was betting she would enjoy what he'd understood to be one of the more exciting competitions in recent history.

Leaving his uniform behind in his quarters, Fisher replicated a more relaxed attire for the game; A navy long-sleeve light sweater over a light gray undershirt, some old worn in denim jeans, and an absolute must; a well-curved Boston Red Sox ballcap. Feeling as though he fit the part, he exited his quarters on Deck 10, and rather excitedly made his way for the turbolift, an extra ounce of pep in his step, as it were.

Exiting the turbolift not ten seconds later, passing by a crewmen who had a confused look in his face as to the meaning of the ‘B’ on his choice of headwear, Fisher grinned as he stopped by the panel outside of the Holodeck.

“Thea, please punch up Holodeck program, Fisher four-two-three, Bravo.” He asked the AI.

[Do you have permission to access this program, this time?] the AI retorted in a teasing manner, that Fisher hadn’t expected, though he could understand where it came from. A bit of a misunderstanding of his part a few days earlier, when he’d evidently accessed a private program of another Officer, without their expressed approval.

“Yes. This time it’ll be fine. Thank you, Thea.” Fisher smirked, shaking his head in amusement at the AI’s sense of humor.

[Program is loaded. You may enter when ready. Enjoy the game, Commander.]



The doors parted, Fisher stepped inside, and was immediately greeted with the smell of fresh bermuda grass, and a faintly cool breeze that blew in across the duracrete concourse upon which he now stood. As the holodeck doors closed behind, resolving away afterward, he took a moment to just enjoy the convincing surroundings. It was utterly impressive to behold, he thought, and were it not for his fore-knowledge, he would have sworn he was actually on Cestus III, in an actual ballpark, for an actual real baseball game. Faintly he could also hear the ambient sound of old 21st-century music playing over the stadium’s loudspeakers, an old tradition of building ‘hype’ prior to the actual event. Whoever had done research for the creation of the Cestus League back at the beginning, had done a fine job of recreating that feeling of an old Earth MLB game. Approaching the edge of the concourse, Fisher looked out over the beautiful green diamond that dominated Pike Park, home of the Pick City Pioneers.

The Pioneers were consistently one of the best teams in the Cestus League, having won three Championships since 2370, and were now to appear in this, which he knew was the victory game of their forrth such Championship. In the distance, the beautiful skyline of Pike City loomed beyond the outfield walls, and the green hill that fans could picnic on during the game if they didn’t have an assigned seat. There were grounds-keeping crews out tending to the preparation of the game, which wouldn’t start for another half-hour, he figured. This was all part of the ambiance of the program, Fisher gathered as he began moving down an aisle, approaching the Pioneers dugout roof. He could see some of the players milling about, getting ready for the game.

“This will be good.” Fisher commented absently as he breathed in deeply of a relaxed feeling. Maybe this posting wouldn’t be so bad, he began to think, expecting the other two Officers he’d invited to check out the program to arrive any minute. After which, he’d skip ahead to the opening ceremonies, and eventual first pitch.


OOC: Will send all of the Cestus Baseball League information via DM, until I get around to creating the Wiki.

Also, the song playing as Fisher entered the park...
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Re: Day 36 [2000 hrs.] - “There are few things better, than Game Seven.”

Reply #1 –
 [Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Holodeck 02 | Deck 08 | Vecotr 02 | USS Theurgy]Attn: @Swift @chXinya

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Lt. Commander Natalie Stark, Chief of Operations and Second Officer of the USS Theurgy had found herself spending more time in the holodeck, in the past 10 days, than she had in the past two or three months. She'd not set foot inside of one since her last training session with the late Lieutenant (then, a full Commander) Carrigan Trent, some time before the disaster at Starbase 84. At that time he had run her through a hellacious encounter, the last stand of the USS Harrier, Trent's war time command. He had been hammering home a point, and it had sunk in pretty well. At the time it was a good lesson that Natalie needed to learn. Trent had imparted a few of those lessons, but had perhaps failed to take them to heart himself, which Natalie still considered a tragedy. 

Carrigan Trent was dead. Murdered. After being relieved of command, of his position as first officer, demoted two grades in rank, and left in charge of Intelligence, at the time a department of one.

Irony of Ironies, his most recent replacement as Intelligence Department head had been the one to invite Natalie down to the Holodeck that evening. She had met Andrew Fisher a few days prior, and had discovered during a social mixer she had helped to organize, along side Commander Ducote, the ships First officer, of whom the idea had originally come. While the night had a few hiccups - one embarrassing case of mistaken identity that she was still getting ribbed over by the ships tactical officer - Fisher and Rutherford, the ships new Chief Diplomat, had made impressions. In the case of Fisher, a love of a sport that Natalie had heard about during her time on a previous ship. 

Baseball.

The last official professional baseball game played on Earth had been something called the World Series, won by the London Kings in 2024. This was a fact that Natalie knew well, though she might privately wish she did not. Aboard the Mjolnir, Natalie had been nigh on indoctrinated by a junior tactical officer that had a crush on her. She'd been oblivious to that fact and the 'relationship' had gone no where, but the man had come from Cestus III, where the archaic sport had under gone a sort of revival, and spawned its own league. Nat had never thought the information would do her any good - until that mixer with the rest of the senior staff, and the revelation that Andrew Fisher was a fan.

Flash forward a few days later, and Natalie nearly choked on her coffee when she'd gone through the list of files from the most recent communications dump, sent to her by Selena Ravenholm. She had stared, and then let out a short bark of laughter, before pulling the file and running it through a secondary security scan. Satisfied that there was nothing malicious in the file, a holographic recording of the final game in the most recent Cestus Series, Natalie bundled it off, flagged for the attention of the Intelligence Chief as a nice gesture. She'd tacked on a little note about how she'd found it, sent to her from Ravenholm, and that she assumed he'd enjoy it.

That she had thought would be the end of that.

She should have known better, of course. There was an ancient truism among most of humanity. It went something to the affect of 'no good deed goes unpunished.' Sage words that surfaced once again. The ships latest senior officer had invited her to join him for the game. There had been no doubt in her mind that Fisher would book himself a holodeck and watch the event as soon as he possibly could. She had not expected to be invited along for the ride. She'd told Vanya about it, and the Romulan woman had informed her that her people has a very similar saying - all while laughing and encouraging Stark to attend.

Fisher was, in short, the reason she was wearing a ridiculous hat, standing in the corridor outside the holodeck in the ships evening watch. She had been told it was tradition, and arrived accordingly. The hat was light blue and had a stylized P logo with some kind of wagon behind it. She'd had to look up what, exactly it was, and had been sidetracked for a good half hour reading up on the concept of Wagon Trains, and something called the Oregon Trail, which was either a grueling cross country trek on the North American continent, or a grueling computer simulation game, depending on which historical records you chose to believe. 

A fascinating diversion, to be sure. Possibly more so than the sport she was actually going to be watching.\, but only time would tell. She tugged down the hem of her t-shirt, a navy blue so dark it might be black that she'd worn (having been informed that the weather would be reasonably comfortable - and she could always replicate a coat on the fly if it got chilly later in the game), and a pair of much lighter blue jean pants that clung at the hips but flared down past the thigh to hang comfortably loose. The ensemble was finished with a pair of sandals, and a brown leather glove that she held gingerly between finger and thumb. 

Stepping through the arch way, Natalie blinked in surprise, suddenly grateful for the hat. The blue sun was brighter than she was used to, even at the hour of the game. The hat suddenly proved a practical addition to the evening. It did not take her long to spot Fisher. The man stood with his shoulders slightly hunched and arms spread over a bar, looking out at the field from the edge of the concourse. She tilted her head to the side for a moment, and the padded her way across the concrete, looking this way and that, seeing what appeared to be a variety of small stands set up catering various wares, food, drink and collectibles to commemorate the moment, from what she could tell. People milled about the concourse, coming and going from their seats in the stands, talking amicably though never distinct enough for Natalie to pick out individual conversations. 

A well done program, over all. Professionally recorded, from multiple angles, distilled into a unified matrix. Privacy policies in place to protect the identities of the fans while still ensuring the employees and players were clearly represented. She mentally cataloged the effort involved and was privately impressed with the end result. Clearing her throat, on the off chance the other man had some how failed to realize she'd entered the holodeck, Natalie came to a stop at the railing and draped one arm over the other, the glove still hanging by her fingers instead of properly worn. 

"So this is Cestus III?" She asked, looking out at the park, and the settlement - the city, she corrected - beyond, not quite meeting Fishers gaze as she leaned her weight forward, letting her gaze sweep the green grass and red dirt field below. 

Re: Day 36 [2000 hrs.] - “There are few things better, than Game Seven.”

Reply #2 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Holodeck 02 | Deck 08 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: Attn: @Brutus @chXinya

There was a general sense of peacefulness to Fisher as he leant in against the railing, breathing in deeply of the simulated scent of freshly kempt Bermuda grass, watching the grounds crew work on getting the field ready for first pitch. It was such a pervasive sense, that were it not for the fact that he was explicitly aware of this being a holographic recreation, he could have been implicitly led to believe otherwise by how accurately programmed, detailed, and realistic everything around him was. Even the soft breeze which blew in through the concourses leant to a feeling of authenticity that most holodeck programs lacked, and only further spoke to a care and devotion that had gone into capturing the essence and feel of what had been a real-world event. Game Seven; the penultimate of the Cestus Series. Shifting his weight from one resting elbow to the other, he listened as the next hype-up song began to play over the loud speakers, and for a moment he thought he might have recognized it, though his attention likewise shifted as he was joined at the railing by one of his presumed guests this evening.

“It is.” He answered softly, almost sage-like in tone.

Turning the pate of his head, he took stock of the exceptionally appropriate attire that Nat had selected for the evening and smirked in appreciative approval of the haphazardly worn mitt hanging from one of her hands. “Nice hat.” He commented as his gaze went to that of the Pike-City Pioneers ballcap that she’d been wearing. “I guess that answers the question of whose rooting interest you’ll have this evening.” Fisher had also considered replicating a Pioneers ballcap, or perhaps even one which showed support to their opponent this evening, the Coronado Rockies, but had instead opted for tradition, and chosen to represent his hometown, even though the Boston Red Sox had long since ceased existence. He could imagine some of his childhood friends giving him more than a fair share of business had he not gone such a route, as it was not only expected, but pretty much demanded of any children raised in Boston to profess an interest and love for the old defunct ballclub. In the centuries since the collapse of Major League Baseball, there had been very few pockets of fervent fandom which persisted into the 24th, and Fisher had been raised in one of them.

“Thanks again for forwarding this on to me.” Fisher pressed up from the railing and stood straighter to take in another deep breath of contentment.

From the dugout, several players emerged in a trot as they took to the outfield for warmup tosses. It’d be another hour or so of pre-game before opening ceremonies were set to begin, as Fisher had reviewed the program index prior to coming down to the holodeck this evening. He’d already known the outcome of the game, and in fact several key moments which had occurred thanks to a newsfeed that he’d been subscribed to, but he’d never actually been in attendance for a Cestus League Game, let alone one of such importance, and which had been one of the most exhilarating in recent history. He was certain that he, Nat, and Selena should she choose to accept his invitation to join them, would more than enjoy the spectacle of the event. “We’ve got a little more time before the game is set to begin, though I intend to skip the program ahead when we’re well and situated at our seats...” taking a step back from the railing, he turned to motion toward the left-field stands, the only outfield stands offered in Pike Park.

“...we can technically sit anywhere, and while I normally would opt for behind home plate, or the third-base line, I think we’ll be better suited in left field. Pike City’s lineup is stacked with right-handed power-hitters that love to pull the ball.” He wasn’t sure if she understood any of what he had just explained, in fact he was relatively certain he might as well have spoken in latin just then, but there was good reason he’d wanted to take Nat in that direction. “That thing might just come in handy.” He hinted with a nod at the mitt in her hand and began to backpedal away from her in the direction of the left-field concourse. “For now, I need a Beer and Hotdog. How about you?” he raised the question, as like at any park there were concession stands which ran the length of the concourse, and several of the holo-simulated fans were milling about, getting their pregame feasting fix on. “C’mon, we can grab a scorecard from the concessions too.” He added, motioning with a wave for the short brunette to follow after.

A moment or so later, he settled in line at one of the concession stands behind one of the other ‘fans’ in attendance and waited for Nat to catch up.

All around them, the crowds were starting to grow in size as more fans were filing into the park in advance of the game. There was an audible excitement which exuded from them, and infected Fisher, even if they were made up of forcefields and projected photons. The program was a recording and recreation, and while he knew that the faces he saw on those around him were progressively generated by the computer so as to protect the identities of their real-world counterparts, there had still been a great attention to detail shown in capturing the emotions espoused by those faces. The wonder and jubilation of young children as they begged their parents for cotton candy, or for a souvenir foam-finger; nostalgia and relaxation on the faces of adults who sought to reconnect with a simpler time and aspect of life. It reminded him of why he loved this game so much, while at the same time bolstered the sense of duty within him, as he knew that they could enjoy such proclivities because he, and others like him spent their lives making it possible.

“Oh... uhh, I have a Cestusian Lager and... a dog with kraut please.” he ordered as he stepped forward, turning back to his companion. “Nat?”

The holo-projected man at the counter waited for her to make an order, the menu offered hanging above him on a display board, yet there were plenty of traditional options surrounding him, set up to display and entice those in line.

“What can I get you miss?”

OOC: Next song playing overhead...
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Re: Day 36 [2000 hrs.] - “There are few things better, than Game Seven.”

Reply #3 –
 [Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Holodeck 02 | Deck 08 | Vecotr 02 | USS Theurgy]Attn: @Swift @chXinya  
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At first, the Martian had wondered if the man running the show had actually heard her. He hadn't taken his eyes off the field, seemingly absorbed in the moment. She supposed, given that he was actually a fan of the game, unlike her, and had a deep, abiding interest in what was going to unfold here, that made some sense. She could understand the appeal of getting to watch something like this, in the abstract. On the Mjolnir there had been a few offers to attend a game like this, but during that time, Natalie had declined, feeling entirely too shy to be truly social (not to mention failing to realize the man making the offers had ulterior motives). Now, years later, she was here to actually watch one of these things through, a sort of 'thank you' for forwarding the transmission onto the ships new CIO. 

But answer her he did, sounding like someone coming out of deep meditation. Natalie had seen that a few times before, though not from Fisher, whom she had not really interacted with a great deal, and certainly not from anyone watching such a scene as the one unfolding before them. She felt him give her the once over, watched him smirk, and tilted her head a little, listening to his words. She glanced up at her hat, though she couldn't see the logo stitched across the top, for the bill that blocked both it, and the light of the sun overhead from her eyes. "In my defense, it was the only one I'd actually ever heard of before today." Well, it was possible the young tactical officer had told her of a few others. This was the only team whose name she had remembered. That was a more accurate statement, but she let her original words lay where they had fallen. 

Taking an educated guess, based of their own prior conversation, she gestured to his hat. "Not a team in todays game. I assume that's the logo from the team whose culinary confection you provided the other night at the mixer?" Depsite her initial trepidations about the whole affair, having to help organize it with Commander Ducote and kick it off, the dinner social had gone rather well, and everyone left in a good mood, as far as nat had been able to tell. She'd been rather exhausted after, but had enjoyed herself, and taken pride in the whole evening. It was good - refreshing even - to see Captain Ives and Thea enjoying themselves for a change, considering all they had suffered through over the past 5 months. And she'd hoped it helped forge further connections between the various members of the senior staff, having come from such disparate assignments to serve aboard the Theurgy.

Watching the players - she assumed - pad out onto the field, Nat flashed him an easy going smile in return. "You're welcome, Mr. Fisher. It was lucky break, and given your enthusiasm for the subject, sending this on to you seemed like the right thing to do. I'm not about to deny someone a bit of fun and a taste of home. Er, kind of." He wasn't from Cestus III after all, but the thought still counted, Natalie decided. After everything her ship had been through, it seemed hard for her to begrudge anyone a few happy moments, even if they had only just joined up. "Consider it a thank you for helping things go as smoothly as they did the other evening."

Fisher explained the plan from here on out, getting seats, getting something to eat, and his reasoning for why one might wish to sit in a certain place, given the make up of the related teams and there apparently tendencies and prowess. Or lack there of? Natalie wasn't entirely sure. The game was still weird to her, and she was certain that some of this showed on her face. She was picking up about one word in three and giggled a bit, holding up the glove. "Well I'm glad I brought this along if it might see some play. But I'll admit, while I'm certain that every word you just said was Federation Standard, it felt a lot more like Greek to me. You'll just have to explain as we go along. But I could eat." Natalie declared, deciding that perhaps this time she might actually pay attention to any explanation. If nothing else, she could try and regale Vanya with a story of how the night went, as the scientist had declared an interest in seeing if this sort of thing was as amusingly bad as many of Natalie's pervious social outings over the years. 

And she was pushing herself, she knew, but had not really seen a way to decline the invitation. For one, she had not at all expected the effort, and she felt as the ships second officer to refuse would be poor form, and would be a missed opportunity at that. She was going to have to work with Fisher and it would be good to get a feel for him. Plus, it had been a nice gesture, and Natalie did appreciate it. So here she was, with a glove she barely understood how to use, following in the considerably taller officers wake as he head moved about on a swivil, taking it all in. "They really put al ot of thought into these places don't they?" she asked, watching some nondescript fans of the Rockies (she thought) going by, a couple with a small child who had an oversized foam glove on one hand, in the stylized shape of a hand holding up its index finger. What an odd thing to wear, she thought, hurrying to catch up with Andrew. 

Stopping in line, Natalie again resumed her quiet people watching. Individual faces seemed slightly off, but the whole effect was still wonderful. Like Andrew, she felt anticipation growing around her, and eagerness of the crowd to see the game that was to unfold. She wondered, idly, if the fighting pits of ancient Rome (or modern Qo'nos) had been like this. She was beginning to forget that this was holo-program, which was a sign of how well it had been done. That reminded her of another recent trip to the holodeck, and walk around home that brought a smile to her lips. Yes, even if this wasn't her sport, she could appreciate what she was seeing, and the effort that had gone into recording it. And in truth, the other officers anticipation was infectious. 

Still, she blinked a bit in surprise as she realized she needed to order. "Oh, ummmmm." she drew the word out as she looked over the options. "I think I'll have one of the uh, hot dogs as well. No Kraut though," she'd never cared for the stuff. Looking over the options, she added, "lets go with a bag of the roasted peanuts? And I'll try one of the Port Shangri-La Ciders." The short blurb next to it had suggested it was a sweet drink, and Natalie knew she iddn' much care for hoppier fare like beer. No that she had a wide breadth of experience when it came to alcoholic beverages, but she'd grown a bit more knowledgeable over the past few months. Hazard of the job, she supposed.

Snapping her fingers, she added, "OH! We're supposed to ask about scorecards, right?" that was as much to the holographic vender as it was to Fisher. Only after she asked did she realize that he might have taken care of that while she was watching the growing crowd.

Re: Day 36 [2000 hrs.] - “There are few things better, than Game Seven.”

Reply #4 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Holodeck 02 | Deck 08 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus @chXinya

Fisher had definitely been a little lost in the moment when Nat had first arrived, as his interest in baseball as a pastime extended beyond it as a game. There was a feel, and a peaceful rhythm to the old sport, which seemed to reach into the inner most depths of so many and instill a certain calmness. That much was certainly true for the Chief Intelligence Officer, who hadn’t been in a position to truly enjoy such proclivities prior to his arrival aboard the Theurgy. His time spent in the darkest, and dingiest places you might imagine had taught him to be thankful for the good things whenever they presented themselves.

“Well, it’s a good one.” He commented in response to Nat’s explanation of the ballcap she’d chosen, even if she had picked it coincidentally, it was decidedly perfect for this holo-program. “Not just because it fits the game... the Pioneers are playing in this one by the way... but also because they’re one of the most successful CBL teams to play.” He’d chosen to deliberately leave out just how successful the Pike City Pioneers had been, out of the possibility that Nat hadn’t been aware of the outcome of this game and could experience it from a personal perspective for the first time. The obsessive fan of Baseball that Fisher was, he had been receiving updates on the CBL regularly via a secure news feed, and had in fact already been gearing up to follow the progress of the 2381 season, which was just about to head into spring-training on Cestus III. Still, even though he knew the outcome of the game they were about to witness, he could feel a genuine excitement because the box-score had indicated just how remarkably memorable it had been. Listening to a radio-cast was one thing but getting to experience the visceral feel of actually being there via a holo-cast was an entirely different prospect.

Likewise though, as she pointed out the emblem adorning his ballcap, Fisher’s sage-green eyes peered up underneath of the bill for an instant before he went on to explain. “Yeah... Boston Red Sox. Defunct team from Earth. They were a legendary club. Had what was arguably the greatest rivalry in all of Earth sports, with another team which played just a few-hundred kilometers to the south in New York.” He was surprised by how well attuned Nat’s instincts were on the subject, though it was just as likely that she had actually read the little info card that he had placed alongside the tray of Fenway-Franks that he had brought to the informal little banquet that she, and Commander Ducote had put together. The affair was a pleasant one and had allowed him and the other newest addition to the Senior Staff get to know their colleagues, and in fact become at least acquainted with each other in the same respect. The amusing dynamic between himself, Sam, Nat, and Hathev was a surprisingly entertaining one, which had included some exceedingly charming exchanges. It was easy to say that Fisher had felt a cordiality with his 2XO, which he imagined was one of the goals intended for the mixer.

“Growing up back in the old neighborhood, even though Baseball has been a dead game for two centuries, it’s still kind of a requisite for kids to have an appreciation for, and admiration of the Sawx.” There was a hint of that hidden or repressed ‘bah-stan’ accent sneaking through his voice as he seemed to let his guard down ever so slightly. “It’s more than appreciated.” He thanked her again, as this was definitely a program he’d be hanging onto and enjoying time and time again in the future. “And the shindig the other night was fun too. Was nice to get to know you, and the others a little before we charge headfirst into oblivion together.” He offered her a wry little wink in reassurance as they made their way to the concession stand, and she commented on his use of Baseball specific rhetoric, which was only just the beginning of his nerd level knowledge of the game, and the intricacies of strategy which came into effect with it. “Eating is part of the whole experience of a Ballgame, trust me.”

When the attendant returned with their orders a minute or so later, Fisher accepted his beer and paused to admire the clear plastic cup which held his amber colored lager, and how it was adorned with artwork relevant to the Cestus Baseball League, the two teams that were set to play today, and the year in which the game was set: 2380. A ‘commemorative cup’ as he remembered it being described as in a few books regarding Baseball fans from the late 20th and 21st century; whoever had been in charge of bringing back that sense of nostalgia to the CBL had really done their research. “Hah! Neat!” he remarked simply as he brought the beverage to his lips to take a sip. “They really did. Folk used to collect these things.” He explained to Nat, after the cool bitter liquid had tingled its way down his throat rather refreshingly. “I’ve seen pictures of stacks of them being displayed rather prominently in homes, and recreation rooms. A little memento of having been in attendance I suppose.”

“Right, good call. Can we also get a scorecard, and a pencil?” Fisher asked of the concessions attendant, who nodded politely in acquiescence to the request, returning a moment later with a tri-folded piece of cardboard, which had a typical box grid printed upon it, as well as opposing team biographies and lineups for the game which was yet to be played.

Accepting the scorecard, he tucked it under his arm and retrieved his dog and beer, ready to lead Nat to the left-field stands.

Overhead, the announcement speakers soon transitioned to yet another staple of North American sports music, as the two of them departed the stand, and began the short little trek across the concourse. It was definitely drawing closer to first pitch, given the number of simulated fans which were starting to mill about, each going about their own business in preparation of the game’s start. “Once we have our seats...” he rounded a bend after reaching the end of the third-base line where it hit against a tall 50-meter yellow pole which denoted foul-territory. “...we can forward the program to the opening ceremonies, since we’re still a good forty-five minutes from first pitch, given that the players are still warming up.” There was a genuine intrigue for him in that regard, because while he knew the outcome of the game, he hadn’t known what kind of pre-game festivities the CBL would have in store. Another facet that he had read about, and in fact experienced during holodeck recreations of older games from Earth, and while those were all impressive in their own right, he wondered what the creative minds behind the Cestus League might have had in store for this unique little league.

Stopping about twenty or so seats in from the third-base line, and five or so rows deep, Fisher took a glance at the field before him, and with a nod knew that this was the right place to stake claim. “Pretty perfect.” He said, as the tri-level tiered seating behind home plate was contrasted rather beautifully by the blueish-green Cestusian sky at dusk. The light cool wind blew out in their direction from home, and with a deep exhale the spy settled down into the seat behind him and felt remarkably at ease.

“This is really your first ballgame, huh?” he queried her.

OOC: Next song played overhead...
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Re: Day 36 [2000 hrs.] - “There are few things better, than Game Seven.”

Reply #5 –
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Holodeck 02 | Deck 08 | Vecotr 02 | USS Theurgy]Attn: @Swift @chXinya 
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So much to process, so little time. Natalie had not checked to see as to the outcome of the game. Her interest did not extend quite that far, in truth, but she had recognized the name of the team in the file metadata she had perused as part of the security scan she had enacted. So she had gone with the hat for Pike City and it seemed reasonable enough. A bit of gentle ribbing from the CIO was to be expected - she was a novice to the sport after all, and he was what she'd call a fanatic. In a kind way, of course. Still, it was good to know that the reason she'd heard of the team was because it was a good team. Subconsciously she adjusted the set of the ballcap on her head, tucking a few strands of hair back behind one of her ears and lowering the brim back down.

As with the mixer for the senior staff the other evening, tonight's excursion was a chance for Nat to try to be a bit more social than she usually preferred. In point of fact, the entire stay at Aldea had been one social activity after another, either by representing the ships needs to the locals, or by getting to know all the new crew that had come aboard in her role as second officer. There was plenty of new crew to acclimate, even before Admiral Anderson began to send hand-picked reinforcements to Theurgy. Admittedly most of her interactions were somewhat along the lines of her holodeck outing with Lt. Commander Fisher - one on one encounters, or very small groups. The mixer was...different. It had been considerably more stressful and thus Natalie was quite pleased to hear that Fisher had enjoyed himself at the meet and greet shindig. She already knew that Captain Ives and Thea had had a wonderful time, but it was nice to hear that one of the recently acquired officers had seen it to be beneficial as well.

What followed was a walk and talk break down of what to expect as they got themselves set up for food. Natalie smiled in a bemused sort of fashion at Andrew's clear excitement over the concept of collectable commemorative drinking vessels. In a society in which something like that could be easily replicated she had to wonder at the clear joy the man felt, but all the same, she made a mental note to see that he got a copy of the cup for his own collection later. True, it would not be one actually from Cestus III, but from the Theurgy's replicator banks. However she imagined the gesture would go a long way and it never hurt to continue to be on the good side of the ships Intel Chief.

She was sure there was a Starfleet regulation about that somewhere or another. If not, there ought to be.

Regardless of the nature of collectable cups - ruminations for a later date to be sure - her somewhat limited research and dimly recalled prior conversations on the sport of sports came in handy after all, and soon enough the duo had been provided with a score card by the vendor. As much as she wanted to bite down into hot dog she'd been plyed with (it did smell wonderful), the analytical part of Natalie's mind that could recall all the various statistics on Theurgy's EPS conduit output parameters while docked was intrigued by the notion of keeping stats on a game as it was played. Would that force more engagement on the acts unfolding?

When she caught herself going up on her toes to get a peek at it Nat realized she might be more eager for all of this than she'd thought. Or simply, she could use the break. It had been a long day after all. Chuckling to herself, she quietly fell into step with Fisher again. Her gaze went up and up, as they passed the large yellow pole, before snapping down and looking out across the field. There was a player standing on a raised mound of tamped bare earth in the center of the diamond of bases, tossing the sports eponymous ball to another man who sat in a crouch behind one of the bases. Farther out she could see players strung along, also passing balls back and forth, working to loosen their arms.

"Sure. That makes sense to me," Natalie agreed. "This is your baseball game after all. If you want to get right to the uh, action?" She figured that was a good word for it. "Far be it from me to complain. You mentioned ceremonies just now," she had to show she was paying attention some how, as they made their way down the stairs toward whatever seats Andrew had decided to appropriate for the occasion (Natalie knew that anyone programmed to take those seats would simply cease to exist, a benefit of a holographic recreation of the game that the genuine article would not afford them - along with the time skip).

"I caught the Federation Olympics a few years back on broadcast, once they started it back up after the Dominion War. They had this massive Parade of Nations where various representatives from all the competing worlds marched around the main arena, one after another." By now she was shimmying along next to Fisher, watching as he chose his seat and sank down into it with a pleased sigh, an act that - sans sigh - Natalie emulated. She to felt the slight breeze, as she set her cup into a convenient holder placed in the back of the chair in front of her, and silently debated again the notion of asking the holodeck for a jacket. Perhaps latter.

"Lots of impressive traditional garb, giant banners, some performers, that kind of thing. Is that what you're talking about, when you say opening ceremonies?" She could tell by his crack about this being her first baseball game that she might be a bit off on her target, and flushed slightly, but then laughed. Really there is no need to be embarrassed, she told herself.

"I'm that obvious am I?" Nat asked, knowing the answer. Shrugging her shoulders, she confessed, "Never watched a single um...pitch. That's what they call it when they throw the ball at the sticker? No wait, batter." The correction came easily enough. "Honestly the only reason I know anything is because I once served with another fan, and I very briefly skimmed a summary of the sport in the Federation Database."

Shrugging again, she settled back in the chair, propped one of her feet up against the back of the next row of seats, and bit down on the hot dog, enjoying the flavor bursting from the well grilled frankfurter and forcing herself to repress a groan of delight (she was not, in fact, successful in suppressing the groan in the slightest). If nothing else, a mouth full of the dog in turn forced her to stop babbling and let Fisher get a word in edgewise. She didn't even notice that she was tapping her braced foot in time with the music broadcast throughout the ballpark.

- FIN
 
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