Sorry about the delay. I took most of
the week off and have been passionately doing nothing.
Where were we? Oh yes, Luca and I had finished our
psychological warfare all resulting in a couple tickets to the Cub game. Once
there, we settled in to our great seats (Thanks again, Gary).
We watched the parade of ceremonial first pitch
thrower-outers. Some corporate guy! Twin girls! Country Western star Frankie
Ballard!
It just so happened that Country Western star Frankie
Ballard had seats right in front of us. His band was an amazing collection of knuckle
tattoos, long beards and dusty snap button shirts. Some didn’t even drink beer,
so you know there was some dark stuff in their pasts.
Although his publicity shots are of a clean cut, lanky, pompadour
pretty boy, Frankie was wearing a white Cub’s hat and jersey, gold rings and pair
of Elvis sunglasses. So, I’d appreciate it if you’d read any future Frankie
dialogue with an Elvis voice.
I made my typical dad small talk. “So, first pitches, huh?
You really zipped it over the plate, there.”
“Thank ya. Thank ya very much.”
From the moment the game started, Luca could not stop chattering.
Stats, anecdotes, possibly made up details of every plater.
Frankie leaned over his chair and addressed Luca. I though
he was going to tell him to shut up, instead he said, “Hey little man. You sure
do like baseball, huh? You ever see yourself a real Major League baseball?”
Luca shook his head.
Frankie tossed him a ball. “That there is a genuine first
pitch baseball. I want you to have it, man.”
Luca began levitating a few inches off his seat. Luca
thanked him profusely and I shook his hand like an 80 year old man.
Frankie went up to do the 7th inning stretch and
I suggested to Luca that we have Frankie sign the ball when he came back and I’d
buy one of those plastic cubes for displaying.
Frankie was flattered that Luca wanted his autograph and his
bandmates gave him some good natured ribbing. Ball signed, Luca put in its display
case and held it gingerly. The ball promptly fell out of the case and rolled
out of sight.
For a second, Luca looked as though someone slapped him in
the face. Then huge tears fell from his eyes as he completely lost it. One of
Frankie’s bandmates raced to buy a new ball and Frankie quickly signed it.
Luca heaved, “It’s…not…the…first…pitch…ball!”
I knelt down and grabbed Luca by the shoulders. “Luca. You
gotta get it together. Frankie got you a new ball. It’s almost as good. Maybe
even better. Don’t do this. Take a deep breath.”
Luca heaved, “It’s…not…the…first…pitch…ball!”
Frankie leapt out of his seat. “I recon we can find that there
ball. Let’s go, boys!”
Frankie and his band spread out across the section. The Cub
fans were more than happy to let half drunk honkytonk boys reach between their
legs among the hot dog wrappers and nacho cheese.
Suddenly, Frankie held the ball in the air. “I got it!” Perfection.
Luca hugged Frankie and Frankie whispered in his ear, “I
love baseball almost as much as you, kid.”
All was right in the universe.
No comments:
Post a Comment