The Infamous Pittsburgh Pirates Game

 As predicted, all of the things I mentioned in my previous post that I knew would happen, came true. I’ll have to admit though, the game was well attended and the stadium was pretty impressive. You could clearly see the Pittsburgh skyline from our amazing seats. Ken certainly knows how to pick good seats.

It was also impressive to see that Pittsburgh had live captioning of everything that was announced that appeared under the scoreboard.

This time I earnestly tried to follow the game. I only looked at my phone a few hundred times when Ken would look the other way.

There was one disturbing event, though. Around the 5th inning, I heard this man screaming over and over, "Stella! Stella! Stella!" Poor guy, I felt sorry for him. I looked around, but I didn't see him.

A few minutes later he started screaming again. His voice was coming from somewhere in the isle to the left of our seats. "STELLA! STELLA!" And then he would let out an elongated higher pitch scream, "S-T-E-L-L-L-A-A-A!"Again, I looked around, but I couldn't see where he was.

Thoughts were racing through my mind. Why was everyone in the crowd, ignoring him?  No one seemed bothered or disturbed enough to help this poor guy. Not even the isle ushers, or the cop in front of us on the field spitting sunflower seeds on the ground!

As the screaming got closer and closer, I wondered. Was it his wife, his date, his daughter? Is it time for an Amber alert?  Was I the only one who heard him? I turned to Ken, "Do YOU hear that poor frantic man looking for, STELLA?"

He cracked up and finally answered me. "Mol, STELLA is a beer. He's one of the stadium staff selling beer. See?" And sure enough, there was a man carrying a blue crate with the name ~ STELLA clearly spelled out on the side.

Oh, good grief! What brainiac would brand their beer, STELLA? And I'd like to know HOW MANY other mothers in this crowd were sitting there, worried sick, wondering when someone would step up and do the right thing?

Mea Culpa! Mea Culpa!

First, let me say to both of my brothers;  Den and Jack, please forgive me. My husband FORCED me to go to a Pittsburgh, Pirates game today. I wanted to go to IKEA in Pitsburgh and the only way he would take me is if we fit in a baseball game! I reluctantly agreed even though I threatened to wear an Indians shirt in the hopes they wouldn't let us in. He laughed.

A few weeks ago we went to an Indians game. He's asks me every summer and I've run out of excuses now that I am  retired, so we went the night they played, the Reds. He was so excited to see Corey Kluber pitch. Despite the fact that I made him park as close as possible, I could feel the sweat dripping down my face and trickling down the back of my shirt. We settled in and each inning after the Indians were up he would turn to me and say, "Did you see that? He only pitched 8 times!" "Yep!" I'd say. Actually, I was watching the adorable two year old about 5 rows ahead of us battle with his Mom to try to get off her lap.

Every now and then he would lean over and tell me some amazing fact about the team, or a player. "Wow, or Interesting, or Nice." I'd say. Around the 6th inning he told me some amazing fact and then looked at me and said, "You could really care less, right?"  "Oh hon, I'm really trying! I do feel bad though, you should really have someone next to you who could appreciate all this awesome information. Maybe the Indians could adopt a program where you could hook up with another hometown Sports fanatic and you two could sit together? Wouldn't that be awesome?" He just shook his head.

So, let's see how tonight goes. Things I already know.

     *  I will sweat my way to our seats.
     *  He will have amazing facts to relay each inning and I will try harder to be interested. Oh wait, this is Pittsburgh - - who cares.
     * I will earnestly watch the game. (All the while mentally planning the next few weeks of posts on my web site.)
     * He will enjoy himself no matter what. :) thank goodness.
     * The ninth inning WILL COME and I will sweat my way back to our car.

I ask you, 'How much more fun can one person have?'

And, bless his heart he actually asked me if I was excited when we got in the car this morning. Ever the optimist.