I’ll be the first to admit. My expectations were extraordinarily high. They had to be.

I can’t remember the last time I went to an event as a fan with my dad. No press credentials. No game story that needed to be done. No deadlines to meet, or storylines to think up. Just dad and son, going to a Major League Baseball game like we did hundreds of times throughout my childhood.

Except, this one was different. A baseball game inside a NASCAR track. The most attended regular season MLB game of all time. A spectacle. This wasn’t for nostalgia, this was to see something we’d never before seen, and probably wouldn’t ever see again.

For two baseball purists, it was a stretch to think we’d appreciate it as much as we did sitting at Yankee Stadium when I was 13 years old watching David Wells’ perfect game. It wouldn’t have the meaning of going to a Subway Series World Series Game in 2000. But it would be a memory we’d cherish. Too bad, it’ll be a memory that we look back on and chuckle at.

I’m a sucker for the spectacle. The NHL’s Winter Classic and Heritage Classic, played in football stadiums outdoors in the middle of winter, could be my favorite sporting event to watch on TV, and is on my bucket list to go to.

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I was enamored when MLB took the show to Fort Bragg. I was so jealous watching as others went with their dads to Dyersville, Iowa, for the “Field of Dreams” game. The Rickwood Classic in Alabama looked simply awesome. When the last-minute opportunity came up to buy two tickets to the Speedway Classic off a friend, I jumped at it. My dad’s birthday is Aug. 4. The tickets were expensive, but not ridiculous (we paid $160 per ticket). The drive was a scenic five hours, and my dad had credit for a free hotel room. It was the perfect setup. Until it wasn’t.

I understand MLB has to appeal to a broader audience than just baseball fanatics. I get bringing in acts like Jake Owen, Tim McGraw and Pitbull. I appreciate them including NASCAR drivers in the festivities. The interactive fan zone, the pomp and circumstance before the ballgame, and the stock car-themed schtick were all cool with me. Their effort was made to make it a spectacle.

But ultimately, what people would remember is the stroke of 7:20 p.m. Ball meets lumber and leather in front of 90,000-plus people in a setting like we’ve never before seen. Unfortunately, that is when the ball was dropped. Not because of the rain. We all understand, weather happens. But because of radar mismanagement. We’re lucky to live in a world where we have every weather app and Doppler conveniently located in our pocket.

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It’s simply so easy to see the weather. To know what it will do. To prepare accordingly for it. The herky-jerky nature of MLB’s reaction to the weather is what ruined the day for so many. This is not a “normal” game. Almost none of the people at the game lived in the Tri-Cities of Tennessee. Most traveled a decent distance to get there. Paid good money for the experience and wanted to make the most of it. This was not a normal 1 of 162 that just needed to get in. Postponing a game to 9:40 p.m., only to then call it after an inning ruined the experience for so many.

Very few families will enjoy a full baseball game that starts at 9:40 p.m. It simply is too late. Kids and a three-hour baseball game starting after bedtime don’t mix. Believe me.A three-hour rain delay, with 90,000 people, would overwhelm the concession stands. I am not saying that is an excuse for the concession stands to run out of as much food as they did, but there is no question that the lines would be insufferable with everybody crowding into one concourse to stay dry.If the game were called earlier and pushed to Sunday, it would allow folks to make plans to attend it. When we were leaving the parking lot after 11 p.m., we both said, “there is no way we’re making it back here tomorrow for a 1 p.m. game.”MLB knew what rain was coming, they knew what the weather would be, and they had to have known that the field would not drain like a normal field. Putting them out there for one inning could have been catastrophic. Thankfully, it wasn’t. Imagine Elly De La Cruz trying to plant his foot in that puddle behind the short and turning his knee awkwardly. MLB could have lost one of its most electrifying players for the season because of a knucklehead decision to try and squeeze in some baseball.

If you cancel early and give people options, it helps everybody. If we had known at 5 p.m. they were going to play the game on Sunday, we would have made a night of it. Spent the time in Asheville or Johnson City. Had a good dinner. Gotten some rest, and gone back up to Bristol to see the game like we had originally planned.

Instead, we left the stadium after 10 p.m. and walked through every mud puddle in the Tri-City area to get back to our car. We waited for about an hour to get out of Bristol while soaking wet. There were few, if any, restaurants open at that hour (and remember, concessions weren’t an option inside the Speedway), so needless to say, our plan changed to eat something at our hotel in Asheville and come home.

My final gripe is this: Not allowing fans to put their tickets on StubHub or any other “ticket selling” platform for the Sunday game was wrong. MLB advertised the fact that people came from 50 states and nine countries to see this spectacle. They had to know that half, if not more of them, would not make it back on Sunday. Flights to catch. Hotels to check out of. At least let the fans feel a bit better about themselves, and the experience, if we could recoup some of the money we spent on tickets. I, for one, did not know anyone in that area to sell my tickets directly to. I would have felt a whole lot better if I had made $30 a ticket on the open market to make up for a bit of the hassle. Pay for a tank of gas, or a burger and a beer when we get home.

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I’ll leave it at this. On a bright sunny day, boy, would this have been a spectacle. But MLB should have been better prepared for the fact that “summer in the south” doesn’t always lend itself to bright sunny days.

Whoever was in charge of concessions dropped the ball big time. A typical NASCAR race at Bristol has a whole lot more than 90,000 people attending. I know they can bring their food and drinks in, but I’ve never seen NASCAR concession lines look like that.

Still, it doesn’t ruin the entire memory for me. I still get to spend a weekend talking about baseball with my dad. We reminisced about baseball trips past. When I was a kid I went to games in Boston and Philly and Baltimore and St. Louis and San Diego.

Nobody was hurt. Nobody left famished or dehydrated, injured or dead. It is not fair to compare this to Fyre Fest. Call it what it is. A wild pitch thrown by MLB. It won’t deter me from trying to attend another “spectacle” event.

It won’t make me less of a baseball fan. It won’t ruin the fact that we did (albeit for 10 minutes) see baseball played inside a NASCAR track. I won’t let it rain on my parade of memories. I just wish I had packed a poncho or an umbrella or that NASCAR was raced in a dome.