4 : 441 : 8 : 8
Nothing like waking up at 6:33 on a Saturday morning – the ONE day I can just roll over and fall asleep again – and instead, finding myself fully awake. No hope of return. It’s a predictable pattern, weekend-in, weekend-out.
By seven, Puck had made his usual date with the red couch and his new stack of “Calvin & Hobbes” while Oxbear did the usual man-meeting downtown with breakfast, tire-hauling, and buddies.
Game four on my year – trying to rake in as many as possible before South America. Carrie-Bri and I are already in talks over who should sub for me on the podcast during my extensive stay south of the border. If it doesn’t morph into “The David Freese Hour” before my return, I’ll eat my hat.
Anyway, since most of the rest of my siblings were at Stormfest, I made this trip alone to the stadium. While they learned about the historic twisters and hail storms of St. Louis, I learned a little more about extra innings and the scrappy grit of Cardinals baseball downtown.
Balmy sunshine drew in the big crowds late that morning – no surprise – for “Matt Carpenter Batting Jersey Day”. All in XL, of course, for fans age 16 and older. The grandpa handing out the jerseys looked at me carefully to see if he thought I was old enough yet. I wouldn’t consider grandpas, as a rule, to be a great judge of a woman’s age. But, hey, I’ll I take it.
I brought the packaged deep red shirt up to the fourth deck, appropriately shaded from the potential of mid-spring sunburn, and a high view of lingering batting practice.
Around 90 minutes later, and a few small M&M cookies I remembered to pack before leaving, the show began.
Three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and eleven hard-earned innings later … another walk-off. Mr. Matt Carpenter had pulled through on his jersey day. And another sigh of relief. Carrie and I had publicly predicted a little rockiness in May and it was already being put to the test.
When I finally pulled back up the driveway, my boys were still gone at the Silverspoon’s. Somehow Puck had cajoled his way into spending the night over there; I don’t think it takes much.
Oxbear drove back just after dark with not only a Culver’s butter burger for yours truly, and mini gooey butter cookies and Hershey’s chocolate bars for dessert, but also plants from Gloria, which he added to the landscaping – or lack thereof – in the last light of day. Good man.