Weeks ago, I bought a ticket to tonight's Texas Rangers game against the Chicago White Sox. I'd been to a game last year, during their run to the World Series and enjoyed it, so I was looking forward to being back in that lovely stadium.
After eating a nasty but cost-effective dinner at my hotel (Salisbury Steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn on the cob -- all of it too salty), I figured it would be a good idea to make my way, on foot, up to the ballpark, about a mile away. That way I would not only work off some of the heavy food I'd just had, I'd also get there early. The weather forecast was not good and did not bode well for the prospects of a full game. I figured I'd take in a couple of hours and then see what was happening at around 9, when the storm was supposed to move in.
Once inside the stadium, I had that same rush of excitement I've always gotten at pro ballgames, from my earliest memories of Shea Stadium in Flushing -- the way the expanse of green opens out in front of you, then unnatural brightness of the light stanchions, that fill the bowl with artificial sunlight.
According to the reports I'd glanced, the game promised to be a low-scoring pitcher's duel. That was dispelled when the Sox hit a solo shot to open up the scoring in the first half-inning of the game. Josh Hamilton, back from injury, was in good form, going two for two, with two stolen bases. So much for the pitcher's duel.
It was 4-2 Chicago when the weather started coming in. First the dust began swirling. You could see the clothing on the players and umpires billowing like sails on their bodies. Occasionally a player had to call time due to dust clouds. Then there was an announcement asking people from the upper decks to move down into the lower sections. This was due to high winds.
When the grounds crew brought out the tarp and covered the infield, nearly losing the tarp to the high winds as they did so, I made the decision, prompted also by a text message from my wife, to get out of Dodge, as they say. I swiftly made my way to the third base exit, and ran across the street in heavy rain, waving down a trolley bus. The driver told me to hop in and drove me down to my hotel.
Once inside, I felt safer, but not completely safe, as I began to see reports of tornado warnings. The hail then began rapping at my window, and I thought about all the tornadoes that have been happening this spring, most notably this past weekend, when the town of Joplin, Missouri was wiped off the map.
I said a special thank-you to no one in particular, grateful that I was okay, that I would be home in two days, where I would hug and kiss my wife and children.
I remember being alone in Savannah, Georgia when I was pregnant with Phin when the scary weather hit. Its bad enough when your home in the comfort or your surroundings, let alone by yourself in a far away city.
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