2: 435: 6: 2
I was rolling in the wealth this week. Game Two of the season, Game Two of the week. Although as Carrie-Bri and I drove off that morning at about 11:30, we were both a little tired from two late nights back to back. And we’re not even old yet.
Today, there was no steamed broccoli in the row behind us, but…
“Someone’s feet smell really bad,” Carrie noted about an inning or two into it.
Carrie has a super nose. Whereas I can barely smell anything – thanks to a trampoline accident fifteen years ago – Carrie can smell the fluctuation in coffee brands and alterations in floral landscaping, without even looking. I, on the other hand, well, it sort of depends on the day.
Anyway, odors aside, the game was quickly beginning to favor the pitcher during nine innings of mild temps circulating the mid to upper 70s, sky high in right field.
During our usual intermittent game commentary, collecting good stuff for the podcast, we began to piece together a demographic study on which players drew the most interest from various genders and age ranges.
“Berkman and Holliday – middle-aged women.”
“Carpenter – men at spring training.”
“Matheny and Yadi – everybody.”
“Waino gets the grannies.”
And, it took awhile to find it, but Carrie finally sniffed out the offending pair of feet just before the final victory. “Cowboy boots,” she nodded. “Behind us.”
It took a solid two hours to get back to the Big House. Forty-five minutes just sitting in our usual parking garage. Blues play-offs game traffic. Should have known. Locked in that literal parking lot of traffic for so long, I noticed the driver behind me buried deep in a newspaper for the better part of those three-quarters of an hour.
Once Puck was finally collected back at the Big House – Carrie rushing off to the House Rabbit Society for another volunteer session – and two large Schnuck’s cookie cakes for his birthday celebration at school tomorrow, we hit the road for home.
Just before bed, we wrapped up another study on Noah.
“What do you think Noah felt when he stood on dry land again after rocking back and forth on the water for over a year?” I asked Puck.
“He probably said ‘whoop whoop’. … What’s Hebrew for ‘whoop whoop’?”