I stood in a crowded stadium, and someone else’s beer dripped off my Cardinal-red shoes.
It was October, and no one else played.
It was exactly what I’d dreamed of when I imagined attending this game.
I wondered for 20 years.
I did not account for a dominant bullpen and hideous fielding.
I did not hear other fans count outs as they thundered toward a title.
I did not ever believe my team would lose.
But they might, actually.
Then what?
I felt tears in my eyes.
Anxiety crowded my throat.
Down again. Even worse.
And a thought occurred to me:
“Brace yourself so it doesn’t hurt so much when it ends.”
It didn’t matter.
I didn’t need to be sad about anything else that fall.
But if I gave up with a few outs left in the game, maybe they’d still win.
Maybe I wouldn’t.
by 