Friday night Travis and I went to an Angels-Red Sox playoff game. They gave out the thundersticks at the entrance. Fortunately the guys behind us clapped them above our heads and not beside our ears. A few seats down, though, a fan kept us going with cheers. I've never cheered so much in my life or stood at a game so much. Every so often I checked in with my subconscious: Remember this, I telegraphed. Remember the volume of sound, remember the color red, the green of the playing field, the way the players look so white and pristine.
Later, at home, where it was quiet, my ears were ringing, the way it sounds after you go to hear a band that is LOUD.
The Angels sadly lost this second playoff game and last night they played the Red Sox in Boston. Everyone was giving them up for gone. I was worried and nervous and said to Brian, I'm going to be very upset when they lose.
When? he said. When!? No, you have to say 'I'm going to be very happy when they win. When they win!'
I Googled the patron saint of baseball and found the name St. Rita. So all night we remembered St. Rita. Brian played the Rita Meter Maid song and substituted lyrics. I called out to St. Rita. After all, what could be more natural for a saint than to cheer on an Angel?
And when the Angels came back, I thanked St. Rita.
What a game. As my cousin John would say, What a fricken game!
In the LA Times Travel section yesterday, I loved the article about the Dominican Republic. I want to go there. Streets named after baseball players, baseball on ESPN in eateries. Such an addict! It could be worse; it could be much worse, this addiction of mine. It could be cocaine or shopping.
Tonight I teach at UCI so there will be no baseball for me. It's their fourth playoff game, which they have to win, or they're out of the running. I will be thinking of the game, though, and the players, and be reminding St. Rita, silently, to help our guys out.
I want to write about baseball; I just don't know what about yet.
But my sense overload of the other night isn't apt to go away anytime soon. Remembering is a good thing for writing.
It can be a very good thing, indeed.
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11 comments:
Alas, the Cubs broke my heart on Saturday night. But at least I had the chance to see them in a playoff game in person.
I love this post. I love love love the Halos and think that we've broken our mental chains and can win win win! I'll pray to St. Rita! Go Halos! Ps I have long wanted to go to the Dominican for winter ball and loved that article, too!
Enjoyed your article but sadly have to say I hate baseball. There, I said it, I'm sorry, but I guess it's because I was raised sans baseball in France. I feel sorry for my 3 sons because I also can't stand football, and my oldest is at the University of Michigan and I have no clue how the team is doing and have never watched an entire game. Now, how sad is that? I might be the only one in the whole of the US who doesn't enjoy either. I do watch basketball though, especially when my kids were playing.
I'm happy that you love it so much, and your son is lucky too.
Sadly, the Angels lost last night--I found out when I got back into the car after class.
I haven't always loved baseball. It's only been the last couple of years that I've been so into it. My son's interest drew me. Years ago I remember thinking, Baseball? Ugh--boring!
It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Luke
I guess....
It sounds good, anyway....; }
So much for St. Rita.
J.
Yes, Jordie. I've been meaning to talk to St. Rita about this.
Barbara, Glad to hear there's still hope for me to fall in love with some sports that I never cared for before. There is one that I'll never enjoy:
BOXING.
Oh, boxing... YUCK!
Joyce Carol Oates wrote that book on boxing.... I don't get it.
I suggest you refrain from speaking to her. A second after I posted my former comment I got a sharp pain in my left knee.
j.
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