– Terrence Mann, Field of Dreams.
Ahem. Some people have money.
Most of us, like me, buy our polish dogs and kettle corn outside the ballpark on the corner, and then happily climb up to the third deck to watch a live baseball game.
Two weeks ago, I lived as the Other Half lived. And it was beeeeeaUtiful.
A friend of mine manages a condo building downtown. Their tenants? Members of the Nordstrom Family. Yeah, THAT Nordstrom. They couldn’t go and gave her two tickets, with parking pass. And she asked me!
Let me outline how the other half lives.
They know nothing of Seattle Sausages across the street. A special entrance ushers them past the lines and into … a buffet. With crab legs, prime rib, and pretty much anything else you could want. They have their own hotdog rotisserie, if you’re a baseball purist, and an open bar.
The other half sit NEXT to the camera man behind home plate. Don’t believe me?
The other half have a menu at their seats, should they need a sneak during the game. I casually checked off a beer and garlic fries and handed it to the “waiter”. Five minutes later, “Here you go.”
The other half can whisper to Ichiro, and he can HEAR THEM.
Why did I post this under the “Writing” category?
Because baseball is poetry in my world.
“I love the game,” Shoeless Joe went on. ”I’d have played for food money. I’d have played free and worked for food. It was the game, the parks, the smells, the sounds. Have you ever held a bat or ball to your face? The varnish, the leather. And it was the crowd. The excitement of them rising as one when a ball was hit deep. The sound was like a chorus.”
– Shoeless Joe, by WP Kinsella.
The love was passed down from my grandma, a die hard SF Giants fan. In 1992, my sister and I lived and died by the Atlanta Braves. There’s no team in Oregon, where we lived, but TBS aired the Braves every day. They were our boys, every last player.
- Game 7, the National League Championship Series.
- Bottom of the ninth.
- Two outs.
- Bases loaded.
Bobby Cox, the general manager, had used every player on the bench. With the playoffs on the line, he sends up Francisco Cabrera, a player who’s only batted 10 times in the Majors. To me, this is the most exciting play ever made.
Oh, and don’t miss Ted Turner, the owner, high-fiving Jimmie Carter. Hilarious!