So Barry didn't hit number 714 today. Other than that (and the fact that my Cubs just laid a giant log in the middle of the field) our day was just about perfect.
We burned ourselves to a crisp, mainly because it was supposed to be a cloudy day and turned out to be warm and sunny and fucking fabulous.
This lovely old couple was behind us at the game, the wife made me put on sunscreen after forty minutes because she was certain I was going to burst into FLAMES, chatted us about the best places to play golf and tried to sell our friend Chris some pre-season 49ers tickets.
The ballpark was just full of people playing hooky from work, people who pulled their kids out of school--I am sure in anticipation of Barry passing Babe Ruth. There is something really fabulous about guys still in their dress shirts at the ballpark. Something irresistible about babies out for their first ball game. Something amazing about families at the game on a Thursday afternoon.
But. Who can resist this?
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