The View from 322: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Paws in the Action

Some random thoughts from today’s game between the Tigers and the Rangers…

·        I exchanged my seat again.  I still have not sat in my actual seat for a game. 

·        This time, I was in the lower deck, behind home plate. 

·        About twenty minutes before the first pitch, I got up from my seat to go get some food.  When I got back, some dude was drinking a beer in my seat.  I tried to be polite, and he apologized and moved away.  A point of etiquette for you seat-stealers: can you at least wait until the game STARTS before you start squatting in other people’s seats?

·        I am not the most effusive of fans.  I love to watch sports, but I very rarely cheer.  When I was a kid, my father and I used to go to Detroit Pistons games.  The entire stadium would be rocking, and I would be sitting in my chair, leaning slightly forward, staring intently.  He would poke me.  “Are you OK?”  he’d ask.  I would startle back to attention.  “Of  COURSE!”  I’d reply.  And then I’d resume staring straight ahead. 

·        I make this point because Paws, the Tigers mascot, had an encounter with me today, and it didn’t go well.  He wandered down my aisle, taking selfies with enthusiastic patrons.  Then he saw me, sitting there, unassumingly eating my nachos.  He walked over to me.  He pointed at my bearded face, then pantomimed stroking his own beard.  I smiled.  He pointed at me and made some wild gesticulations.  I have no idea what he was trying to communicate.  I resumed munching on my nachos.  He tried one more time, then extricated himself by grabbing some random passerby and convincing them to take a selfie.  I kept munching my nachos.

·        Awhile later, I was returning from a bathroom trip, and I ran into Paws again.  He started wildly gesticulating again.  I patted him on the shoulder and kept on going.  Sorry, Paws.  I’ll never be the man you want me to be.

·        Starting pitcher Kenta Maeda’s final stat line: 2 1/3 Innings pitched, 6 runs (5 earned).  He gave up three home runs.  I think I’ve already mentioned I was concerned when the Tigers signed him.  I really, REALLY don’t want to be right about this.

·        I notice the guy who had taken my seat was now sitting one section over, and about four rows further back.  I notice because he’s getting kicked out of another seat. 

·        Josh Smith, the Rangers’ DH, got hit by a pitch from the Tigers’ Tyler Holton.  Smith recoiled after the plunking, and then started screaming at Holton.  I could read his lips, and what he said would make Lewis Black blush.  It looked for a moment like he was going to charge the mound before he took his base, still cursing.  At the moment of the HBP, it was the top of the 7th inning, the score was tied, and Smith was taking the only unoccupied base in the infield.  Thus far, Smith had gone hitless.  Think carefully, Josh:  what are the odds Tyler Holton was deliberately trying to hit you???

·        A guy taps me on the shoulder.  “Good game, huh?”  he says.  I turn, and realize it’s the same guy again, now in at least his third seat of the game.  We chat briefly, and then he disappears again.  Does he actually have a seat?  Or does he just live in the stadium, a la Tom Hanks in The Terminal?

·        I’ve decided that I prefer the upper deck.  Sitting behind home plate, it was easier for me to judge balls and strikes, but two important hits to center field were completely obscured for me by the second baseman.  Besides, I’ve never been harassed by Paws in the upper deck. 

·        The final score was 9-7 Texas.  There were 24 hits, nine walks and three errors.  It was a fun game, but by the 8th inning, I was checking my watch.  It’s the first 3-hour game I’ve attended this year. 

·        On my way back to my car on the QLine (Which is an absolute pleasure, and completely free.  Thank YOU, city of Detroit!), I can’t help but listen to the guy sitting behind me, who is on the phone.  It is clearly a guy who is getting catfished.  I’m only hearing his side of the phone conversation, but hear is what I overhear…

o   Darling, I love you, I swear I do, but I need to know you’re real.

o   Then why won’t you video call me?  Right now.  Just call me and I can see you’re real. 

o   Of course I love you, and I don’t care what you’ve done.  I just want to know you’re real.

o   I swear I love you.  I really do…Hello?  You there?

o   (A minute or so of silence.  Then: ) We must have gotten cut off.  I’m on a trolley thing.  Can you video call me?

o   Hello? 

o   (The rest of the trip is in silence…)

·        When I get to border patrol on the Canadian side, I tell the guy I was at the Tigers game.  He asks no follow-up questions.  I guess he figured I’d been through enough.