Pelfrey on the mound
Sunday, May 11, 2008
I finally bought tickets to see the Mets play, my first game of the season. I had wanted to see them on my birthday, and thus recreate last year's perfect combination of baseball, euchre, cool daylight and moral clarity. But the Mets were on the road, so I put it off for the following Friday. Jay reluctantly went along with the idea. I bought my tickets online well in advance, payed the extortionate fees to process them and print them at home, accepted the mild disappointment of seeing that Pelfry would be on the mound.
Yet the tickets had to be for May 9th, 2008: the day the skies urinated with catheter-like regularity. It was wet and grey all day. We sat high in the mezzanine. Our hot dogs were like doom dogs, our beers did not fizzle, and we looked out over the long tarpaulin on the grass and waited for them to call the game, which they did, around 8:30.
I find consolation in one thing: riding in the front car of the 7 Train on the way there, looking out at the track, listening to the first half of Maurizio Kagel's Acustica from beginning to end, slicing though the rain and believing that within the half-hour it would puff away into a thin line of steam.
posted by Greg Purcell @ 12:10 AM,
