Baseball Game

I went to the A's Rays game last night with the wife. It was cold as Susan Boyle's hoohoo. We had amazing seats; 4 rows behind the first baseman. The first 2 and a half innings took over an hour and a half (the game mercifully lasted just over 3 hours). The Rays were up 6-0 (ended up winning 8-2); good times.

In the 4th inning the first baseman, Mr. Crosby (a 1st baseman batting 9th, A's are in trouble) fielded the 3rd out and before trotting back to his dugout tossed a ball into our portion of the stands. There were 3 little kids right in front of me. They had all been well behaved and were yelping like lapdogs as the ball left Crosby's hand. Each kid had a glove, as a self-respecting man, I did not have a glove at a baseball game (a 25yr old behind me did have a glove and I berated him about how that made him a woman or a sissy; to be fair, I tried to get wife to bring a glove since our seats were prime foul ball seats, but she passed).

As the ball got closer I readied myself to lunge over the little kids to catch the ball. I realized in that split second that I would then be giving up my biggest advantage, my height and size. The ball came down into the kid in front of me's gloves. As soon as I heard the ball and the fake leather combine I reached down into his glove and grabbed the ball. To see the look of horror, pain and disappointment on his face was the greatest satisfaction I have ever had. His tears gave me strength. If I had AIDS, his tears would have cured it.

After taking a picture with the ball and tormenting the child with how disappointed I was that he couldnt hold onto a light toss I gave the ball back to one of the other kids just so I could get some more tears. I mean really, what am I going to do with a baseball?