It was a 70-degree day at the ballpark in Peoria, Ariz., with plenty of intense sun, deep blue skies with wind picking up. The Seattle Mariners were playing the Cincinnati Reds.

My husband, Don, and I dashed to the counter to purchase our General Public lawn “seats,” to find out tickets only cost $6 a piece and there were plenty left.

“Do you have a senior rate?” I asked.

I don’t know why I needed a senior rate, as this was going to be a good deal. Oh well, couldn’t hurt to ask!

“No,” said the ticket seller, “but I have a free ticket someone just handed to me.”

Our entrance that day into this well-manicured ballpark only cost $6 for the two of us.

We grabbed a spot on the lawn behind the outfield, spread out our blankets and proceeded to enjoy a picnic of deli sandwiches, pickles and chips.

We needed drinks to accompany our sandwiches. What a surprise to discover a medium-sized glass of lemonade cost $5.75. That surely made up for what we didn’t pay in entrance fee.

We were settled, comfortably sunbathing on the grass, watching as the grounds crew wrapped up raking the dirt between the bases, when Don looked up.

“I wonder why that airplane is flying so low and slow,” said Don.

We kept our eye on it, as it flew past us and past the ballbark. In an instant, a person jumped out, or was that two! Followed by another, and another and another.

Two parachuters appeared glued to each other when they split, each steering their parachute in a strong wind that was blowing them from behind.

“Holy smokes,” I said, “Look at that!”

Word spread and now all eyes were on the jumpers.

Then the announcement, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome the Navy Seals!”

Roars of applause and screams ushered the Seals into the ballpark.

The announcer introduced each one by rank and name, as they performed perfect landings, remaining in a standing position. One Seal even landed on the yellow target right behind the pitcher’s mound.

As they gathered their parachutes and walked off the field, the fans honored them with a standing ovation.

I turned to Don, “Did you get a picture of that?”

“No, I left the camera in the hotel,” he said.

The game itself was slow, with few runs. The Mariners were losing. We had been exposed to the bright Arizona sun long enough and since we attended a winning game two days prior, decided to leave in the bottom of the eighth inning.

That evening, our daughter, Kalisa, called.

“Wow — how cool! You got to see Griffey’s grand slam,” she said.

“No — Griffey was up to bat in the fifth or sixth inning, bases were loaded, but he struck out,” said Don.

Screaming into the phone, she said, “Dad, Griffey hit a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth!”

So much for leaving the game in the warm Arizona sun … early!

Suzanne G. Beyer is a Bothell resident.