Take me out to the ballgame, again and again and again

Friday night at the Cleveland Indians game I was suddenly tempted to pursue an alternative career (in case the whole teaching thing doesn't work out): baseball stadium usher. I suppose the pay can't be particularly good, but on the other hand, they get to attend every game and enjoy the excitement alongside the fans, and the ones I observed got plenty of exercise.

The woman who ushered in our section worked hard wiping rain off seats, leading people up and down the steps, reminding fans not to put their feet up on the railings, and fussing over the small children. We were in the family section so there were quite a few kids, and the usher was quite taken with our two-year-old grandson. She told me she works in a preschool so she loves being around children, and although she appeared to be in her sixties and limped a bit on the steps, she never stopped smiling.

And neither did I. It was a great game: Cleveland creamed the Detroit Tigers, and I got to see my favorite player, Francisco Lindor, hit a home run. It was Dollar Dog Night so we ate an absurd number of hot dogs with that yummy stadium mustard, and later my son brought me an ice cream cone so massive I had to share. The grandkids enjoyed watching the fireworks every time a player hit a home run, which kept happening. The game was rain-delayed by nearly two hours, so we left in the seventh inning because it was way past our bedtime--but not before seeing Yonder Alonzo hit a grand slam. 

Just about everyone fell asleep on the way home in the van, but before he nodded off, my grandson volunteered this assessment of the situation: "Baseball fun." Indeed it is, and wouldn't it be great to be able to enjoy that fun in person more than once or twice a year?

I need to rethink my retirement plan to include a second career as a baseball stadium usher. Sure, maybe I'd have to deal with the occasional intransigent fan, but think of the perks: The games! The fireworks! That great stadium mustard! I just worry about getting up and down all those steps over and over. I guess that means I need to retire before my bad hip gives out entirely. (How about next week? That way I wouldn't have to worry about my fall syllabi.)