My Bob Evans Sunday Funday

Yesterday was so meant to be one of those days. You know those days. The ones where nothing particularly bad happens but all of the little disappointments and exasperations threaten to make you sit alone in your car and scream (which I did not, do by the way). The ones where you just learn to laugh because, really, it’s all kind of funny when you think about it.

I’m going to try a background, scenario format here or else I’ll go on forever.

Background: We are in Bradenton, last day of a four-game road trip. Decide to go to a local church that starts at 10 a.m. about 10 minutes from the hotel.

Scenario: We leave at 10:03 courtesy of Nik and his insistence on getting 8 hours of sleep no matter what. Blue dot on iPhone misleads us. Curse technology. End up backtracking almost two miles before we see the baseball field and realize things have gone terribly wrong. Find the church. Parking lot deserted. Sign in window, closed for renovations, meeting in Sarasota (20 miles south).

Background: Starting pitchers don’t have to be at the field until two hours before game time at home and whenever the last bus is when the team is away. Therefore, they always get the late checkout room at the hotel.

Scenario: Bus leaves at 2:30. Late checkout 2:30. Game starts at 5. What am I supposed to do in Bradenton for 2 ½ hours? Nik suggests I stay in the room as long as I can. The front desk calls at 3, I ignore it. The cleaning lady knocks at 3:30. Are you staying another night or do you have a late checkout? Late checkout. What time are you supposed to leave? Well, I just don’t know (not proud of that one) but ya know. I’ll find out for you. The boss lady comes. You were supposed to leave at 2:30. Really? I am so embarrassed. Let me just gather up my belongings and go then. It’s 3:45.

Background: An hour and 15 minutes to kill, no smartphone aka no way to know anything that’s around me other than the field.

Scenario: I leave the hotel as it begins to sprinkle. Sprinkle turns into downpour. I go to the field. Don’t want to get out of the car. Have to go to the bathroom. Remember I saw a McDonald’s somewhere and decide I need an Oreo McFlurry. Sit damp on a stool looking out at the storm, eating my McFlurry and wondering whether we’re gonna play this game or not.

Background: You can only sit at McDonald’s for so long. It’s still raining but softer now and I want to be at the field in case the game starts on time.

Scenario: The parking at Bradenton sucks with a capital S. There is none. You can park at businesses for $5, which you know I’m not doing because I’m cheap and entitled. So I park 3 ½ blocks away from the stadium and walk shivering in the rain. I wait outside the booth, get my tickets and go inside. I find a seat under the covering but when the wind blows, the rain gets me pretty good. It’s 5. It’s 5:30. It’s 5:45. The fans are getting restless. Many left after the giant bolt of lightning and very angry thunder. It’s 6. A man has decided to run onto the field and use the tarp as a slip n’ slide. The police are not amused. He is escorted out. It’s 6: 30. We’re listening to Yakety Yak on the loudspeakers. A woman leaving opens her umbrella and all of the water on it falls on my head. It’s 6:45. The grounds crew is sweeping the tarp again. It’s 7. The tarp is being taken off. The skies are clearing. Announcement: the game will start at 7: 20, fans cheer. It’s 7: 10. The lake in left field is clearly deep enough to support marine life. Nik starts throwing toss with the catcher. Announcement: due to field conditions and coming weather, the game is cancelled.

Sunday Funday!

Spectator Sport

One of my favorite past times is listening to people in the stands who either know nothing about the minor leagues and guess or people who think they know everything about the minor leagues and explain it loudly to those around them. In both cases, the inaccuracies are usually hilarious.

Last night I was  lucky enough to sit in front of the former. Two middle-aged women who knew nothing but didn't let that stop them from hazarding many [wildly incorrect] guesses. It started with the usual, how much money do they make? Not sure why people are always so interested in that but it's a common question. Lady 2 responded somewhere around $22,000 I think. I'm surprised I didn't laugh out loud. Lady 1 is that all? Oh, if you only knew.

Then things turned to slightly offensive. Lady 1, this is so different than a major league game. You can tell why those guys are in the majors and these aren't. Ouch. Let's remember every major leaguer was a minor leaguer once--geesh. And then the kicker. Lady 2, it must be such a hard life knowing that you're nothing. Just nothing. Wow! Beyond unnecessary. I might have actually mouthed Wow. I was very tempted to turn around and ask when the last time they had an autograph request was. (I do realize people asking for autographs isn't what takes people from nothing to something but you know what I mean).

I could talk forever about the implications of these ways of thinking and how harmful they are and how nobody wins but, you know, it's all part of the game I suppose.

The Big Move

Well, we finally gave up our life of luxury, went the way of most baseball couples and moved in with a host family... or a host person... also known as my Grandma. We've been here for five days now and I just don't know where to begin.

Perhaps the downgrade of our king size bed to a full is a good place to start. The first night was pretty sleepless for both of us. The second night, I was awoken in the middle of the night because Nik was literally laying on top of me. The next night, I woke up in the middle of the night and Nik was glaring at me (apparently I'm not great at sharing the covers). Just when we were starting to figure it out, Nik left on a road trip. First time this season I've been excited about him being gone.

Also, our room is tiny. My grandma lives alone and has three bedrooms and four closets (including a walk-in one) and yet there is no room for any of our stuff. We've already put 2/3 of it in storage but I still regularly trip over backpacks and suitcases and clothes in the four feet of walking space around the bed. The reason there's no space is because my grandma needs to be on one of those extreme couponing shows. 10 for $10--she's all over it. Four bottles of rubbing alcohol, five cartons of half&half, six boxes of kleenex, 36 rolls of toilet paper. It's slightly out of hand.

But we love being with Grammy (and her tiny poodle Rocky) and we especially love not paying rent. Everything else makes a good story and we're loving our new adventure as house guests. It's starting to feel like we're finally earning our minor league stripes!