AN IMAGINARY TRIP THROUGH HEAVEN AND HELL

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As you may suspect dear reader, my life isn’t always and never was all that virtuous! More or less like your life, we go through our day trying our best and doing what we can, but things do happen.

The other day I happened to be watching the Mets on the TV, and David Wright hit a ball foul behind third base and into the waiting hands of a fan. The fan was sitting with his wife and as he rose from his seat and caught the ball, he raised his arms in triumph and suddenly, his wife pointed to a little kid a few rows in front of him. The guy goes down to the kid and hands him the ball, just like he was told!

the object of my desire

I have NEVER gotten a foul ball in all my years going to ballgames. Be it in New York, both teams, Los Angeles, Chicago or Philadelphia, never.

I can’t imagine what that feels like, so I tried to imagine, with a full cast of supporting characters for this special production that went on in my mind. It is called:  

                   

I GOTTA WHAT!

Produced by: Del Bloggolo

Starring: Del Bloggolo

With: TLW

David Wright

The New York Mets (Except those on the disabled list or smoking something)

The Philadelphia Phillies (Except those on the disabled list or smoking something)

A little kid

Cast of Thousands

Music: The Vienna Boys Choir (The only ones I could get on short notice)

Scene: CitiField

A beautiful sunny afternoon at CitiField: home of the New York Mets, behind the first base dugout. (Don’t ask how I got these seats) Standing on the mound is a tall lanky pitcher in a red and white

Tall lanky pitcher

uniform staring angrily down at the batter, David Wright. Into his windup goes the pitcher, releasing a 94 mph fastball that Wright steps into and the ball explodes off his bat. Spiraling ever straight upward, over the infield it begins to drift on it’s way down after reaching its apex. As I gaze up I start to wish it would come in my direction. As if by magic, my will is taking over, the ball is starting its descent in my direction! Could it be? Where would I put the ball if I get it? Will it hurt my hand if I catch it? Could I get it autographed? I could put it with my Duke Snider autographed baseball in a special trophy case.

David Wright

I am starting to see the red stitching as it is now tumbling downward, I can almost read the writing as it now is within my grasp. A little kid is in front of me, his puny little hands reaching upward (ha, the little punk ain’t cutting in on my trophy!) I stretch on my toes and miraculously, the ball plops in my grasp! I have the trophy! I have my first souvenir baseball, a real live Major League baseball, played in a major league game and hit by David Wright, in my possession! I look down at the little woman, (TLW) who has been cowering all this time with both arms over her head! I show her the ball, my trophy, my triumph.

TLW: Nice! Give it to the little kid.

Huh?

TLW: GIVE it to the little kid.

Suddenly the whole stadium is quiet, standing on the pitcher’s mound, with his hands on his hips: the Pitcher as well as his teammates and the umpires are all watching. Standing just outside the batter’s box bat under his arm watching is David Wright. All the Mets in the dugout are positioned overlooking the roof of the dugout, watching, expecting, wondering. The Little Kid, standing there with those big brown phony eyes, near tears is looking straight at me, his Dad in anticipation says nothing.

I GOTTA WHAT! I don’t want to.

TLW: Joe, GIVE IT to the little KID!

I take a look at the ball, feel it, weight it and turn it slowly, looking at the stitching, reading the name of the National League Commissioner on it, lean down over the little kid and give him a dollar.

I’m thinking in the Den, near my Bazinga hat.

But there is a lesson here boys and girls: don’t take TLW with you to a ballgame.