“You need to meet him, Mom. I love him. I’ll give you the details in person tomorrow. Rick said he’s getting a reservation for 11:30 lunch, so we’ll pick you up about 11:10.” I can hear her deciding she should back out, so I get off the phone quickly.
“I don’t know…” and I cut her off.
“I’ve got to pick up another call that’s coming in. See you in the morning,” and I hang up.
I get ready for the game, and head to the trolley station feeling like a million bucks. Happy to be treating my baseball peeps to early BP and amazed at the man who’s making the unnecessary bribe happen. I love how he wants me there early and behind the plate for the game, for him. I should be upset he’s choosing my seat, but it’s all about supporting him, and it’s like being at the game with him. He wants me there. I never thought this would happen. He wants me there. He wants me cheering for him. He needs me.
The trolley gives me too much time to myself. Yes it’s public transportation, smells like pee and/or barf at any given moment, could have transients wandering through, and it’s still the best way to get to the stadium. It evokes baseball for me. It’s part of my game process. It's all part of the event. Getting to the park. Getting stadium food. Getting to my seat in time to watch my guys warm up. Today I'm trying to enjoy the ride and take in the beautiful San Diego coast route on the green line. It's changed so much over the years. The Wyland artwork on the building near Little Italy is still there, but you can't see it with the new building built next to it blocking the way. The juxtaposition of the Tuscan accented apartments followed by the contemporary art and then the Spanish details of the Santa Fe Depot, it’s San Diego defined. The trolley stops have been refurbished and even the lines have changed to be more accommodating. New public park areas have popped up a few places along the green line. No matter how I try to distract myself, my head is filled with my team and the way it’s being stripped naked of the players we all cheer for. It's an annual thing, the trade deadline. And, it's bittersweet. Sad to watch deals that get our favorites traded, but I always look forward to the rookies coming up. Most years that's in September when its time for the expanded roster and the teams bring up guys to give them a taste of the big leagues. This year, it's happening in July. Because, well... trades gutted us. It's the right thing in the long run. There’s no telling how the next three seasons go. Games could be a disaster. It's horrible! Everything’s in my head as I walk up to the stadium and the organist is playing “Yesterday” by the Beatles. Couldn't be more right on. Trade Seno and it could gut me, too.
I walk up to the will call window and ask them to let Carter know I’m here. After a few minutes, a short bald man walks up to me with his hands full.
“Hi, Sherry? I’m Carter,” he introduces himself.
“Hi! You need help,” I observe.
“Only when one of the guys assigns me on a mission and today it was Seno,” he laughs. “Okay, so here’s your access card. It doesn’t give you free rein of the stadium, but it does give you access when employees have access and it does allow you access to the players parking lot when you’re driving the registered vehicle, Rick’s Challenger.”
The photo on the access card is cropped from one of the selfie pictures Rick took in Colorado. He kept them with him. It makes my heart warm. I’m such a freaking girl. I’m never going to understand how he has this effect on me. I’ve never gotten gooey over any man.
Carter continues, “This is your Mom’s jersey for tomorrow.” He holds up the extra large women’s jersey already personalized with SENO and the big 6. The regular team uniform the team will be wearing tomorrow. “This is your full set of jerseys. Seno wanted you to have the jersey to match the team for every game, so here is the regular team jersey, the alternate jersey, the Sunday jersey, the away jersey and the matching caps.” He trades me the jersey and cap I have on for the alternate jersey and matching cap. Everything of course with the big 6 and SENO emboldened across it.
“Are you kidding me?” I’m ecstatically happy. My fandom is showing.
Carter smiles at me, “You really are a fan. You two are a perfect match. I do see a wardrobe problem. I’ll get that fixed and leave everything in Seno’s car. You’re early for BP, do you have names? I can leave passes for your guests at will call.”
I give Carter the names and send them all a quick text. He gives a note to somebody at the will call booth and directs me to follow him into the stadium. He takes me into the belly of the stadium to a room with all kinds of uniforms and things the team wear. He pulls out the matching hoodies for each jersey, handing me the one for tonight’s game. Oh my god! I’m spoiled! I’m having a hard time maintaining myself.
“Let me take you to Seno and he’ll escort you to BP.”
Is this really happening right now? Trying to maintain myself and not let my total fan freak-out show. Carter is leading me through the stadium, up to the field and into the dugout. He yells into the clubhouse, “Seno!”
A few seconds later Rick comes walking up the stairs into the dugout and he’s heading straight for me with a purpose. The only people in sight are the grounds crew setting up for BP. Then it
