Blaine and I went to a baseball game tonight, the last one of the season for the city’s minor league team. They play in a ballpark designed in the style of Wrigley Field, Fenway Park--the old, beautiful ones. It is a wonderful place to spend a summer night.
Sitting there in the third inning, sharing a bag of popcorn, Blaine wondered aloud why we hadn’t made a point to go to a few games this summer. Too hot for too long, I offered. Same reason we hadn’t gone on any of the trail walks we had talked about. Those, we agreed, can still happen.
The batter hit a line drive toward third that was stopped and thrown to first for the final out of the inning. From somewhere in the upper deck a lone voice shouted, “Lollygagger!” I smiled. I love “Bull Durham.”
Attendance was fairly light, a nice thing on a hot, still evening. People in our section were spread out. The seats directly in front of us were empty, and we had no one on either side of us. By the bottom of the third inning people had started to walk out to get fresh drinks. For a little while we were an island of two in our section, which greatly improved our chances of catching a hot dog shot into the stands by the “der wiener schlinger” had it come around to the first-base side.
The last of the day’s light was pinkish and fading fast. The park lights were brightening the field. It was the perfect moment in the transition when all the colors in the ballpark were saturated. “I love night games,” I sighed and looked around. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Blaine didn’t get a chance to answer because I straightened suddenly and grabbed his leg, a total reflex. “He’s stealing.” A split second later the runner was off. He slid safely into second. “Damn,” I said under my breath. I pulled my hand back, realizing then where it had landed.
“You know what I like about you?” Blaine asked.
“That I get handsy when I’m excited?” That hadn’t come out quite as I intended. He laughed.
“And that you pay attention to the game. You aren’t here for the beer or to take selfies the whole time. Let’s plan on coming to a lot of games next year.”
“That is a plan,” I agreed. “You know what I like about you?”
He leaned and said into my ear, “That I get handsy when I’m excited?”
That was so not typical Blaine. I laughed and forgot where I had been headed, so I said, “The list is too long.” It really is.
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