My family and I went to a Mets game last night at the new Citi Field. Apparently, it has replaced some other field called, Shea Stadium. I don’t know a flea’s worth about neither baseball nor any other kind of sport. I mean I know you have to hit the ball to kingdom come then run for your life. Or, you might have to get the ball in the basket, through the goal net thingy, over the net or, get a very odd shaped ball to the other side of a very long field while like, fifty giant tight pants wearing guys try to violently throw you to the ground BUT, that’s it. No, who’s, what’s or why’s. Is that sad? Nah, because I don’t care. What did I care about last night? People watching and eavesdropping.
The guys behind us talked the entire time. I mean really, I didn’t know men gossiped. They were going all Seinfeld back there. It was pretty funny. Then there was the big guy next to me who kept yelling, “Find a seat!” to every Tom, Dick and Harriet who paused trying to find their seat. I did take notice that he didn’t yell at anyone who was larger than he was.
I wondered about the people walking around balancing bags or boxes on their heads while trying to sell snacks. How do they do that? Do their heads hurt? Have they ever dropped anything? Do they like their job? Would I ever be able to balance anything on my head? Maybe I should
Then there was a mom and her three kids sitting two rows ahead of me. She had a Farrah-do and was looking all sweet and like, “Honey, darling, what would you like to eat? Mommy will get it for you,” until she asked her son, who was about fourteen, to come closer to her-- then she cursed his butt out. I could swear I saw her head spin. Her pretty blue eyes tried to snatch a year or two off his life. When it was all over, she sent the boy back to his seat and she resumed her honey and darling’s.
Baseball sure can be interesting when you’re really not looking at the guys swinging those wooden sticks!