Ball parks do not determine who falls in love with the O's. The fiber of a Baltimore fan is distinct from the fiber of either of Harvard student or a Bostonian. And although I can't pen myself as either a Baltimore resident (I'm from Virginia) or as a typical baseball fan (I'm female), I'm nonetheless drawn to "Oriole Magic."

IN MOST CITIES, people go to baseball games to see power, not precision. It wasn't exciting to watch shortstop Cal Ripken, Jr. earn a record .996 fielding percentage with only three errors in 1990. Nope. Not exciting. But watching Ripken and the Orioles play all season can be downright poetic. Scoff, cite statistics about "better" teams until you're blue in the face. You're probably right. Baltimore's record in recent years has been dismal.

It doesn't matter. Take Cal's brother, second baseman Bill. Fans might not believe he's a great player, but they like him. He's one of the guys. And we're proud of the entire team. Last year, the Orioles broke their attendance record while racing to sixth-place in the AL East.

Spend a day with the Orioles and you'll understand why Baltimore is a better place for baseball than Boston. Baltimore is a maritime city that wears a scruffy beard. But it's got pride.

At Saturday's game, I was greeted with the words, "Welcome to your new home. Please be very careful. Balls and bats may come your way so be alert at all times. Thank you." I was alert. Bill Ripken sang along with the P.A. before the game and I smirked. Home.

During the school year, I guess I'll have to follow my team through box scores and the Sporting News. I'll live as fully, as completely, in as concentrated a manner as anyone else at Harvard. Cambridge may be "home" for the next three years, but I'm probably not going to this city's baseball park any time soon. And after finals, I'm headed for "Oriole Magic" at the Yards.