Since my husband was very young, it has been his dream to catch a foul ball at a major league baseball game.
Over our long courtship and marriage, every time we attend a game and have good seats, Hubby says, "Oooh, this is foul ball territory!" And I always say, "Oh no, I hope no foul balls come this way!
I'm no dummy; I don't want a broken nose.
Hubby and I tend to indulge one another. I think perhaps this is why the two of us work so well together. All day today I could think of one thing and one thing only: getting home, changing into comfy pants and snuggling under my green fleece blankie. Instead, around 4:30, I realized I had the chance to go to tonight's Red Sox game and so of course I said yes. I knew Hubby would definitely want to go, and I do try to make him happy whenever I can.
These seats were incredible, and free; we looked online and they run about $297 a pop. And, not for nothing, but the foul balls were flying. Roger, the man sitting next to us, bought Hubby an IPA and warned me to watch out for the lefty batters especially, because they were the ones who would hit foul balls into our seats. I nodded and smiled as he lectured us, and decided to really pay attention.
Aromas of heavenly beef burgers and hot dogs were wafting up into my nostrils; I was really jonesing for some meat. Let's face it, there isn't much for my currently vegan ass to nosh on at Fenway. But I did decide on something after a while, and Hubby was closest to the aisle so he ordered for me.
"Hummus and a chardonnay," Hubby shouted.
"Huh?" It was pretty loud, and Jeff was far away.
"Chardonnay!"
"Peanuts and a chardonnay?"
"Hummus and a chardonnay"
He would repeat it several times; would yell it, even. And when a foul ball was hit directly into our particular section, and bounced off of the hand of the man sitting behind me, Hubby was passing Jeff the waiter his credit card and saying, "Hummus and a chardonnay, please."
And when the elderly man sitting directly in front of my husband snatched up the foul ball and pumped his fist in the air, Hubby was still saying, "Chardonnay."
He does try to make me happy whenever he can. Yes, my husband was ordering me white wine and hummus while the old man in front of us caught the damn foul. I felt...bad. This may have been the closest Hubby has ever been to catching a foul ball, and yet...that hummus was really very good.
How can you prove that a foul ball caught by a fan at a Major League baseball game is genuine?
Posted by: Gary Penton | July 08, 2011 at 01:23 PM
Hmmm...not sure?
Posted by: the odd broad | July 10, 2011 at 10:58 AM