First I got compared to Jesus. Then it got weird.
Arkansas defeated Missouri State in a 6-hour game punctuated by a rain delay and Hogs coach Dave Van Horn showing his tusks.
I stood in the well alongside the Bears dugout, greeting the ticket checker on my way. We’d chatted the day before: he’d acted in 20 films, none of which I’d seen, before he moved to Fayetteville to help his elderly mother. He was in his early 60s and wore glasses you’d find on Buddy Holly or English majors.
He asked me to take a photo of the national anthem singer, whose husband stood nearby with only a smartphone to capture two minutes of glory.
“I don’t trust anyone else to do it for me,” the ticket taker said, even though the photo was for someone he’d just met. A doctor, he reminded me.
“You’re like Jesus to me!” the ticket guy said.
Jesus didn’t like being told what to do. See Garden, Gethsemane.
I snapped a couple of photos before watching the flag in center field. Decorum, you know. I shoved the doctor’s business card into my pocket. I think it’s somewhere in a dozen pieces, but only because it rained.
Missouri State starter Austin Knight struggled, allowing four runs in the first two, and fans told outfielder Alex Jefferson that he sucked after he dropped a fly ball.
“He graduated summa cum laude, you fools,” I thought but didn’t say.
Granted, having regularly turned over tables after losing card games as a 6-year-old I can hardly defend my own competitive spirit. But I was upset with siblings, not college athletes. They are barely adults, after all.
Aa a player/manager for the SGF to the Death wiffle ball club – a la Rogers Hornsby – I don’t cry when rain spills from the sky and pushes the game into the next day. Having reached my messianic year I suppose I’ve grown up a bit. The umps called for the tarps in the fourth.
I stayed in my place, if only to hear someone call:
“Someone in the well?”
I had a slight overhang where I could lean against the wall and dry my lens cloths and notebooks. I could stand in the rain and take photos, or I could wander the concourse and fend off Hogs. So I walked to home plate.
The game restarted at 12:35 am. What happened? Who scored? Everyone did. The camera guy started on his fifth Monster energy drink of the day and sang Dave Matthews Band songs, swinging the camera to pan the crowd behind the dugout when Missouri State jumped ahead.
Then it began misting in the top of the 8th. Key word: mist. As a former Seattleite I note the difference between a pleasant reminder of spring and discouraging rainfall. Missouri State took an 8-7 lead, and with a couple of outs the rain turned into a steady drizzle. I could stand it. I wouldn’t run in it unless I could dive across a tarp and had better health insurance.
The umps called for the tarps.
Van Horn overruled them.
Much like Jesus I’m no fan of authority, but I sort of thought the umpires were in charge.
So the college kids kept running on a soaked field, and pitchers tried to throw baseballs they couldn’t even grip, and Arkansas scored four runs. The rain slowed down again before MSU added two in the ninth, losing 11-10 at 3:10 a.m. – 6 hours after it began.
They’ll play again tonight in three hours to decide the regional winner.
It’s raining.
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