Oh, Sweet Irony

Ah, Cardinals baseball. It was a game like any other game I’ve gone to. You find your seats (still a challenge for me at Busch Stadium 3) and like most times when you have decent seats, you have to boot someone out of them. They acquiesced with a grumble of “yeah, I don’t mind moving…” The nerve! Anyway... The game was boring – there was no offense to speak of, but it wasn’t because of outstanding pitching. THEN… it happened. Finally. After over 30 years of attending professional baseball games, it happened. A bucket-list event presented itself to me. Skip Schumaker hit a foul ball right to me. Although we were on the second level it was a line drive from his bat straight to me. No arc, no slice, no hook. The ball spun clockwise as it rose to me in ultra slow motion. My eyes got larger as the ball did the same on its ascent. Decision time. What's the plan? This is going to be easy, just let it come and absorb it. Receive it. I rose to my feet to ready myself - bent knees, hands with fingers spread (but not too much!)… Now, there’s a rail in front of me and it is clear to me that I’m going to have to reach in front of the rail for the ball. My strategy is going to have to be altered a bit. Rather than absorbing the ball I’m going to have to “grab” it in front of the rail and try not to smash my hand between the ball and the railing. Okay, the ball is finally here and as I grabbed the ball it hurt my hands, but not as much as I thought it would. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did to see it squirt out of my hands and flip straight back to the dude I kicked out of my seat.