We went to the ballpark yesterday. Left the hotel a little after 1. Got to Tower Center a little before 2. Futzed around until nearly 3, then decided to brave the cold. Walked the block or so to the ballpark, where a security dude felt up my fuzzy blankie. As I accepted it back from him, I said, “Keep warm.”
He said, “Oh, it’s way too late for that.”
That’s when I knew that we were making a mistake. I also knew that he just wanted to hold my fuzzy blankie for a few seconds because it looked toasty.
We puttered. The game was supposed to start at 4:05. At about 3:55 we went to our seats. The seats were covered in ice and snow, but we scooped and brushed and scraped and Steve had Dairy Queen napkins in his coat pocket for reasons that escape me.
As soon as we arrived, they announced a delay until 5. We groaned.
The people behind us were from Columbus. The people beside us were from Columbus. We’re from the general neighborhood of Columbus (closer than any other recognizable city). It was down home week.
The game started. The game stopped. We went down the stairs to see if we could get a hot chocolate. The game started and stopped while we were in line. A guy ran out onto the field and made a snow angel in right. People ahead of us in line ran up the stairs to see the guy making a snow angel. We wouldn’t have let them back into line if they had asked, but they didn’t.
We got to the counter and there was no hot chocolate. We got hot dogs. I ate mine with ballpark mustard and ended up with mustard near my ear. There is no explanation. We went back up. The game started again.
Two out in the top of the 5th, bases loaded. Two strikes. The umpire halted play again. I knew they weren’t going to restart it, but still we waited until it was officially called. I nearly cried, but I was dehydrated and my eyeballs were frozen. They announced it was to be a Day-Night Doubleheader today and I knew there was no way I could handle it. I felt a rising hysteria at the thought.
But then both games were postponed, so today was spent in a lot more comfort. I have a cold and an earache and am drinking vast quantities of Diet Coke. A band of elephants keeps passing the hotel room door. They would probably claim to be Americans if pressed for information.
I’m behind on NaPo, tired, achy, and cranky. But I’m in a much better mood than I was last night. Ah, the power of caffeine.
I didn’t find out until this afternoon that the game was one pitch away from being an official game — and a win for former Atlantan Paul Bird. That certainly entitles you (and him) to an extreme case of the grumps.
BTW, John Smotlz, when he heard what happened to Paul Bird, said, “If it’d been me, they would have had to use a crane to pry me off the mound before I made that last pitch.”
I thought Byrd was going to strangle someone. Earlier in the game, they halted play during an at-bat by Raul Ibanez. They started the game up again after 22 minutes, Byrd threw one pitch and they halted play again. He was livid.
And they waited for 2 hours to postpone the game. That’s what really infuriated me.