Field of dreams, pastures of pith.

Jerome had two tickets to a Giant’s game last Thursday night. Neither of us are big fans of organized sports but the seats were good- and, hey, it’s a spectacle. Some exposure to the human element is good every so often too. In case you can’t read the comic on the page below- the basic story goes: Jerome’s sat in these same seats multiple times as a guest of a season-ticket-holder-friend-of-his. I asked him if he’s “ever caught any foul balls from these seats?” He pointed up field and back behind home, “Nah, they usually land over there- I’ve never caught one here.”

That said, the pitch- the hit: the batter slices a, now, careening projectile in a more-than-accurate trajectory towards my head. The ball is a brilliant clear hole in the night sky as it approaches light speed on it’s final approach towards my head. I’m holding my sketch book. I don’t want to put it down on the ground- there’s no time and the guy seated behind me is using the immediate area as a spittoon. I freeze up. Immediately I’m transported to a little league game 25 years ago standing in right field. In the parallel universes of the moment- the ball drops to the ground within easy inches of me. Both crowds moan. In present-tension, the spitting guy lunges over the seats and snags the ball spinning at my feet. People in the vicinity look at me like I’d dropped a baby.

I became angry and confused. I took my cup of roasted, not-shelled peanuts and started chucking them at people around me and yelling, “Why didn’t you catch that? HEY! Why didn’t you CATCH THAT?!!”

That last part is not true.



One Response to “Field of dreams, pastures of pith.”

  1. Jason Scheier Says:

    Just your handwriting is inspiring! 🙂

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