My First Bisons Game

On Friday, August 23, I attended a Buffalo Bisons Minor League baseball game with my partner, my sister, and her boyfriend. I’d only been to Major League games within recent memory, so I was interested to see how the Minor League compared.

First, let us note that the correct plural of bison is “bison.” This makes the Buffalo team’s name rather silly, but I suppose it’s hardly alone: the most popular hockey team in my area is the Maple Leafs.

 Accessibility was still a challenge for me but thankfully I had my wheelchair this time. After eating dinner at a nearby restaurant, we walked/wheeled to Sahlen Park. There was a long line outside but an employee waved us through a side gate, where we were ignored by a ticket agent for a few minutes before getting processed into the stadium. My partner wheeled me to the stands, and just as I was about to stand up and make my way down the stairs to our seats, an employee blocked our path and said—to my partner, not to me—“I don’t have any seating for wheelchairs in this section.” I tried to explain that I could walk and we just needed somewhere to store my folding wheelchair during the game, but he wasn’t listening to me at all; he just kept insisting that he could try to find us seating in the accessible section. Eventually my partner—not me—got through to him, and he suggested a few places where my partner could put the wheelchair. I walked down the stairs to our seats, which was much easier than at Wrigley: the steps were much shallower and there was a handrail.

Our seats were pretty good: in the front row near left field. The coolest thing about them was their proximity to the bullpen, which was just a space next to the outfield directly below us. We got to watch relief pitchers from the away team warming up.

The Bisons were playing the Pawtucket Red Sox, a Boston Red Sox affiliate. We were rooting for the Bisons because they’re a Blue Jays affiliate and sort of local for us, plus my partner is a Yankees fan who couldn’t handle rooting for a Red Sox affiliate. Good thing, too, because we were all horrified by the Paw Sox uniforms. They were, without question, the ugliest baseball uniforms I’ve ever seen: camouflage green with big American flag designs on the back. My sister’s boyfriend commented that they looked like something you’d see at a MAGA rally.

Gameplay was similar to the Major League; the only real difference was more errors. The Bisons did not play well at all and ended up losing to the Paw Sox. Our seats were in fowl ball territory and we were hoping to catch one, but nothing came close. There is apparently some disagreement about whether adults should bring gloves to baseball games—either it’s reckoned unmanly or foul balls are for children, I’m not sure—but we thought it was best to be safe in case anything came flying towards our faces.

August 23 was apparently Margarita Night? Margaritaville Night? at Sahlen Field, but the theming was…not great. The apparent highlight was fan karaoke, which was just painful because the guy selected did not know the words to “Margaritaville” at all. The most prominent themed element was an electronic billboard advertising Margarita Night, which was kind of awful because the ad kept appearing next to a PSA about addiction. It was clearly unintentional.

After the game, there was an occurrence that I almost didn't write about because I just don't know what to say: people dressed like vegetables and chicken wings ran a race on the field. Then the lights dimmed for the most epic fireworks show I have ever seen. We were all confused since the Bisons lost; our leading theory is that they needed to use up fireworks before the end of summer. The entire show, which lasted about 20 minutes, was the intensity of a finale at a normal fireworks show. I have no idea what the deal was, but I enjoyed it.

Tickets were cheap and Buffalo is halfway between me and some of my family, so there’s a good chance I’ll go to more Bisons games in the future. It wasn’t magical like the Cubs game, but it was a fun, low-key experience. Well, except for the fireworks. Those were pretty damn extra.