Game 55

Success!

You may think this odd, in describing a baseball game in which the Mariners lose 6-3. But two very important things happened today.

One, I managed to pry my friend and fellow workaholic Ryan Dancey away from his desk, and deposit him in a comfortable seat at Safeco Field. This is very significant. Damnit, it is. Not only is Ryan freakishly tall, but he’s got an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. It will be his undoing.

Two previous attempts this year have failed, but a confluence of the stars caused both Cthulu’s continent to rise, and Ryan to leave work in the middle of the day, drive across town, and goof off for 4 hours.

Apocalyptic, I know.

But further indications of the end of days were coming.

After 400+ games, in 12 professional stadiums, across 3 levels of play and more years than I care to count, I am in possession of an official, game used Baseball that I did not have to buy.

Yes, I got a foul ball. I do not say “caught”, although it was a near thing. After several near catches in the last two homestands, a blistering Franklin fastball was launched right at us. With a shout of “incoming”, I stood up so fast that I didn’t even have time to put on my glove.

The ball sliced right towards us, and dropped directly in front of us. I would have barehanded it, but the woman sitting in front of us ducked forward, and the ball hit her huge straw hat, deflected ever so slightly through the seats, through the gap in my seats, hit a cup of milk behind us, and then rolled sedately to my feet.

I don’t have to tell any baseball fan how cool this is. I was beginning to despair of ever coming into possession of a free baseball with magic mud. Ichiro tried to hand deliver one to me just two nights before. Willie Bloomquist sent his first (and only) home run directly at my seat, while I was drinking not 40 feet below and to the right. Dan Wilson sent two shots inches off my glove, Mark Mclemore hit his first (and only ) grand slam two rows in front of me, and John Olerud nailed one off the seat two to my left.

I believe I’ve paid my dues.I’ve been through the good, and the bad, and I wanted a baseball. So, now I’ve got one.

Ad my moment of trancendant joy was cut short by the jackass one row over who says, loudly and sarcastically, “You have to use your glove to catch those.”

Guess what, fat boy. I’ve got a baseball, and you don’t. Further, you paid full ballpark prices for the pile of empty hard lemonade bottles at your feet. Who’s laughing now, huh?

And I’ve got a baseball. The Randy Winn (with Tampa Bay then) BP home run I barehanded was nice. Painful, but nice.

The Bret Boone BP HR I caught with my hat (coincidentally ruining my sunglasses) is cool.

The practice ball thrown by Randy into the beer garden which I wrestled free while not spilling a drop is also cool.

But this one is better. It has magic mud.

On a side note, I had two other near catches during the 2001 season. One was a blistering bp homer that I couldn’t stand up fast enough for, and the other was a ball tossed up from Jay Buhner that popped out of my glove when some yahoo bumped me, then took the ball for his own. Jerk. The ball was going to go to Mindy, and you made her cry.

Well, she might have cried, if she was 6. Instead she just laughed at the cosmic irony that the same yahoo ended up sitting in our section across the ballpark, and three levels up.

Thirdly, Ryan was able to sit the entire game without significant back or knee pain. Another success for Safeco Field. Cranking up the irony meter to full, it bears mentioning that I sat in Seat 11 today instead of my normal Seat 12, so that Ryan’s freakishly long legs could be more comfortable. Had I not switched, Ryan would surely have barehanded a third ball for his collection.

I win.

Mariners lose. Again.