The Boys in Green
Three hours before the game started, I was sitting on a patch of cold cement outside Roger Dean Sadium with Linnea who was stuffing down the last of the oranges before the gates opened, and her pal. No food allowed. No sense of personal space from the general public either. Makes me want to carry a fold-and-go two-foot barrier with me wherever I go.
Anyway, when the masses were admitted, Mom and Grandma had already got themselves a complete – and free – batting practice. I reserved five standing-room-only spaces with the girls’ purses and water bottles, then hunkered down in the blazing sun for another ninety minutes until game time as the PA system rolled out a long list of Irish jigs. It was worth it.
Already, Linnea and her buddy were comparing tans.
“I’m already more tan because I’m half-Asian.”
“You are not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Then they began arguing over which of their grandfathers was cooler and more deadly – Attila the Hun, or from our line: Ghengis Khan. By the time a conclusion should have been reached, the game had started.
Big smudgy gray clouds patterned the sky, blocking out the sun from time to time. Just enough occasional relief from the heat, also aided with cool breezes and a pack of Papa John’s paper fans Mom rustled up somewhere.
And there they were – the familiar boys dressed in Irish green. Yadi, waving his catcher’s mitt to his kids up in the box seats. Matt Holliday for once warming up on the field, avoiding over-zealous fans seeking autographs to sell on the street by ducking down the opposite dugout staircase. Mike Matheny strolling out to the pitcher’s mound like a baseball king; all he was missing was the fur-lined cap and scepter. Like seeing old friends again.
As the game scooted into the final innings – Redbirds winning – the sky spit a little. Just a few baby drops. Nothing to speak of. And by the time we left, the sun was strong again. Even with sunblock, we all left a little more crispy than we came.
Lutina’s Pizza & Subs – a new pizza for me – “white” with white cheese, Feta (I think), and particularly smoky bacon. Not bad.
We wrapped up the evening with a walk down the beach as I checked in with my boys (who had busied themselves with archery and cleaning up the basement) and collected a Puck-quote of the day.
“YOU’RE A MISTAKE! Get it? A miSTAKE? … You’re full of STEAK, see? Full of steak. Isn’t that funny?”