I suspected from the moment we parked the car, which was suspiciously easy, that this wasn't going to be your typical ballgame. As we passed the entrance, the visitor's bus simply waited, door open, by the side of the road. It was nothing fancy, just a vehicle that had transported a bunch of guys who came to play ball.

When we walked into the stadium I could have sworn someone had thrown me into a time machine and we were back in the 1950s when San Jose was still an orchard town. Everything was completely unassuming, from the refreshment area to the souvenir stands. The place, with its fading paint but surprisingly clean bathrooms, simply breathed "old-fashioned home-town all the way."

And there's not a bad seat in the house. We had the terrific seats— behind home plate—which cost a mere nine bucks apiece. While settling into my "box seat," I looked out onto a field that was well-kept and eyed all the billboards, advertising local San Jose businesses, that were bolted onto the outfield fence. No ESPN, or Comcast, just names like Home Town Buffet, Rotten Robbie and Jerseys Cheese Steak.

I honestly can't remember the last time I rooted so hard for the home team, laughed so much at all the antics, or had been to a ballgame where it was played for the fun of it. Oh, the players are serious, pitchers are throwing balls that are clocking in at 94 miles an hour and major leaguers are coming out of this Class A team—Joe Nathan, Chad Zerbe and Jesse Foppert are examples of former San Jose Giants who are all pitching this year for the San Francisco Giants. But that's only part of the game.

There's the bagel toss, the Quizno's sandwich race, the players trying to break the headlights on a truck, the taco contest, the kid's bike race in the outfield and even a goofy horse race behind the fence with hobby stick horse figures. And everything has a prize. There is even the lotto ball toss in the seats: when the music stops, whoever ends up with the ball gets free lotto tickets. But none of that holds a candle to the "beer batter."

I had no idea what the heck was going on in the third inning when the song "Roll Out the Barrel" began playing and the announcer roared out it was time for the beer batter. The crowd went crazy, and my husband and I just looked at each other.

Then the pitcher had two strikes going and the crowd began shouting, "Strike the guy out." When the umpire called strike three, the place went wild as a slew of guys jumped up and began running inside the stadium.

Until the announcer called out, "He struck him out, all beer is half-price," I couldn't figure out what in the world all the commotion was about. It was only later that I learned it was a long-standing tradition at the park. When the beer batter appeared again a few innings later, I laughed through his entire at-bat, as I watched the crowd shout in delight or groan in response to every pitch. Unfortunately, that time the batter got a hit and the crowd let out a collective moan. Wisely they don't do this after the seventh inning, because with 20-ounce beer cups, I wouldn't want any of these fans gulping and then driving home a few innings later.

It was definitely a night to remember and great summertime fun. It's a real old-fashioned family outing that seems so out of place in high-tech, high-paced Silicon Valley. It is also quite miraculous that this place even still exists. It is nothing short of a true valley treasure and one that everyone should experience with their family at least once. Hopefully this gem remains part of our community for years to come. A place where the cry "play ball" has a group of guys out there for the love of the game and the fans enjoy every minute on and off the field.

Moryt Milo is the editor of The Willow Glen Resident. She can be contacted at 400.200.1051 or mmilo@svcn.com.