Oh, baseball.

We have a love/hate relationship. I love that you're America's favorite summer pastime and that ballparks are perfect places to spend cool summer nights, but you keep my attention for only about the first three innings and then I start to lose track of things.

However, you do have one redeeming quality that has the ability to pique my interest -- hecklers.

I went to a Spikes game on Friday night with a group of buds and I think we were all in agreement that, while the game itself was less than thrilling, the heckling was absolutely priceless.

For instance, we were at the top of the first inning and one of my friends started some trash talk on the Auburn Doubledays' uniforms after a player slid into third and ripped the seat of his pants: "Get some real uniforms! Fabric of our lives, my a**!"

Then he got started on the third base coach who was out of uniform: "Why are they wearing long sleeves? It's hot outside! Where's your uniform coach? T-shirts don't count."

After a few innings he took a liking to Spikes' Bobby Spain: "Let's go Bobby! Viva Espagnol! Bobby! Bobby! Bobby!" (A slow clap that didn't quite catch on accompanied this.)

Or, after a player stole third base: "It's very hard to steal third base and you did it! You did it, sir!" For this compliment I believe he actually stood up and clapped, nodding his head in approval.

One of the best advantages to sitting in the second row on the third base line, is that Auburn team members had to run infront of us from time to time to get to and from their dug out. This was just too easy: "BOOOOOOOOO! BOOOOOOOOO! Why are you running away? Hey don't you smile at me! I saw that! What's so funny big guy? Come over here and face me like a man!"

We had plans to stand up and cheer for them when they ran past us in the last inning to really mess with their heads, but unfortunately, we never got the chance.

But by far, the best event of the whole night (no it wasn't the Nookie Monster, although that thing is pretty damn awesome/ horrifying) was the heckle of the century. Allow me to set the scene.

It's the top of the ninth. Score is 2-1, Spikes. Two outs with Auburn's #25 up at bat. I believe there was one strike. The park is dead quiet, as this had the potential to be the game ender.

Then, another one of my friends, who had been relatively quiet during the game, stands up and made the heckle of the century. The following is the reader's digest version. It was a lengthy one.

Ode to #25: "Hey number 25! You'll never make it to the majors! You'll only languish in obscurity until you retire with a broken body and shattered dreams and your only memories of this will be grim reminders of what could have been but never was!"

In the midst of crying from laughing so hard, we were positive #25 was gonna send a line drive our way and take us all out. But instead he struck out. Bummer. (Mwhahahaa!)

On a side note, this is the same kid who dressed up as a hamburger bun during the sixth inning break and won the "Dress the Hamburger" contest. What a trooper.

So, if you ever want to enjoy America's favorite past time, Spikes style, may I suggest you take along a lot of friends, a lot of money (food prices are ridiculous) and a lot of lung capacity. You'll need it.

- Erin