Saturday, August 8, 2009
Sam and I got tickets to a Red Sox game through the church. They were a killer deal, and Sam likes him some baseball, and I have fond memories of Padres games with my dad (okay, mostly I have fond memories of the NACHOS at Padres games ...) so we went.
I know it's probably not a baseball thing to say, but it was so pretty there. The sun had just gone down so the sky was this violet blue, and the lights were bright and the weather was perfect and everything was so deliciously green. See?
We had a notion to be fasionably late, which was dumb. I just remembered Padres games taking FOREVER when I was a kid, so I figured we had all the time in the world. But the Sox were playing Baltimore, and apparently Baltimore was, um, not so great, because they were getting socked very very quickly. (Get it? Bah!)
By the time we showed up 45 minutes in, it was inning 5 or something, and the last innings were over in less than an hour. It was crazy fast. Which was probably good, because mostly what I did was take pictures and talk to some of the church friends and watch all these weird bachelorette party women walking around in boas and tie-dye tanktops and tiaras and big sloshy plastic cups of beer. And an hour was plenty of time for all that.
I have trouble watching sports because they seem to sever the connection between my eyes and my brain. As hard as I try to concentrate, as much as I get menfolk to explain the rules and the action and why it matters, I'm still rendered stupid after about three seconds of concentration. This has got to be similar to what happens to some of my students when I talk about poetry, so I don't feel too bad. But really, that place was so beautiful, and everyone seemed so happy and to be having so much fun and eating so much trashy food (I didn't have any--I swear. Nary a nacho.) that I longed to be in on it, to feel connected to all the people in the stands and all that drama on the field.
There was this particularly lovely moment when someone started the wave and I sort of did feel in on it. Apparently Fenway is the place that started the wave to begin with, so they really know how to do it right there. People went crazy for it. We were perfectly synchronized, perfectly undulating around the park again and again and again like a giant sea anenome with thousands of tentacles. And we felt beautiful, and we felt like one thing, and I loved baseball, and I payed attention perfectly, just for a moment.