March 25, 2005

Wingtip shoes and baseball do not go together

The lights were bright. The grass in the outfield was an intense emerald, perfectly framed by the brown dirt of the infield. It was a perfect June evening, not too hot and the humid summer having not yet arrived. Even the mosquitoes were taking the night off to watch baseball.

I was in the third base coaches box. The batter ripped a slow grounder foul down the baseline. I casually bent down and scooped up the ball. It was clearly foul by several feet. The third baseman called me an asshole and told me to leave the ball alone.

I gave him look of scorn and turned to throw the ball to the pitcher. My arm would not work right I stepped with the wrong foot and threw the ball like a schoolgirl. Everyone began to laugh. I turned to head back to the dugout and I slipped and almost fell. More laughter from the players and fans. I looked down and realized I had on my favorite pair of black wingtip shoes. The ones I wear to important sales calls. The leather soles had slipped in the dew-slick grass. The wingtips sure looked stupid with my cutoffs.
This was a terrifying dream. I think I liked the one with the oatmeal better.

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