A child stood on the Springfield dugout, scanning the stands for a man dressed in a red and white striped shirt and stocking cap, though the temperature hovered in the 80s. The crowd pointed and shouted, trying to help the little boy, perhaps 5 years old, find Waldo. He did, and Waldo hopped on the Travs’ dugout, did seven backflips in a row, and slid feet-first across the top of the dugout.
This is minor league baseball, where players have two and a half minutes to switch sides, and fans lose interest without something shiny.
Something, I suppose, besides the sun pouring down on batting helmets, shimmering in your eyes and conjuring up memories of playing catch.
I stood in the photo well by the Cardinals dugout, where a 6-4, 170 lb. pitcher pointed at his eyes, then at the plate.
“Hey, be careful,” he said.
“You’ll catch it if it flies here, right?” I asked, a few pitches later.
He laughed, mimicking picking off the ball before it crashed into my skull.
All is well.
Meanwhile, the Baby Birds got caught in rundown, and weren’t happy about the tag:
But they stayed safe on pickoff throws.
Pitchers stayed loose in case someone called for them.
And while waiting to hit:
And coaches stayed in the game, too.
More or less.
Meanwhile, fans watched the play from above:
And even though fans paid more attention to finding Waldo and topping off beer cups – and the game lasted 12 innings – the same player who warned me about flying baseballs got to celebrate in the end.
by 