Chili cheese hotdogs, navy blue cups in the shape of a baseball cap filled with ice cream and $2 tacos were all The Daily Tar Heel staff needed to make their 20-minute journey into enemy territory for the Durham Bulls versus Charlotte Knights game on Tuesday. Apparently, the newsroom could be put on hold for a little baseball.
Through each inning, Summer Editor-in-Chief Natalie McCormick could be seen with her arms in the air, at times standing to the music playing on the loud speakers, singing. Summer Sports Editor Emma Moon could be seen at times laughing, and at other times looking up player's salaries. Courtney Mitchell, the general manager, could be seen with a constant smile on her face, recollecting the many times she had been to that very stadium.
For three hours, The DTH staff became embedded with the very stories they write about every day: of joy, love, disappointment, camaraderie — and baseball.
At the end of the eighth inning, a baseball came flying right at The DTH. It was their moment, but the real champion was DTH reporter Brigette Bagley, who stood up and chased after the ball. She was victorious, and for the next 20 minutes, that baseball was all any of the staff could pay attention to. Several selfies were taken and Instagram story posts curated. Even out of the office, there was never a moment any of them would not have deemed newsworthy.
Life and friends and dirty baseballs are newsworthy sometimes, they decided.
Two home runs resulted in the giant Durham Bull overlooking the stadium to puff smoke from its large nostrils, its eyes glowing a bright red. Maybe it was angry, being stuck up there. Or maybe being stuck up there meant baseball was the only thing that could invoke such an emotional reaction. Baseball was all it knew, just like every person there in the crowd. Work could wait, but catching a flyaway baseball at a game with your friends and family never could – and what screams summer more than that.
The Bulls might have lost, but when the staff left, only fond memories were remembered.
