baseball and beyond

We saw a minor league game last night. The Brooklyn Cyclones (our team) beat the TriCity somethingorothers (Tiger, I think, though don't ask me what three cities make up the TriCity home base). In the last inning, "we" were trailing by a run. While Madge and I were getting ice cream there was a lead-off double - jeez, I hope I'm using these brand new terms correctly - and after the bases got loaded and a guy ran in on a base hit, the number 40 dude smacked the ball over the outfielder and against the fence and that was it.

Whooo! Let's go Cyclones! clap clap clapclapclap.

The girls went home because they were wiped out, but Coco (who was wiped out too but is a sucker for late night activities) and I (merely a sucker) stayed for the fireworks. The stadium passed the time by playing a kind of beach ball volleyball, which Coco enjoyed a little too much. At first he was playing on my shoulders and then he wanted down and started running around the stands. Luckily, I reeled him in for the fireworks.

On the subway ride home, he was drowsy, but refused to fall asleep because he wanted to make sure he'd get his pjs put on when we got home. Go figure.

Two women, approaching thirty, were standing near us and one of them said, "mumble mumble gorgeous eyes." I said, "He does. Yes." She said, "No, you. You have gorgeous eyes."

Oh.

So I said, "Thanks. Too bad you can't see my ass from there."

No. Of course not.

I said, "Thank you" and left it at that. She had one of those empty mega-drink containers from Coney Island and I think it was full when she originally purchased it, so that may have influenced her judgment. Not of my eyes, of course, just of the appropriateness of her endeavor.