fiction
ing eyes. I thought she winked. With her paramour halfway up the aisle, headed toward the men’s room, all she could think to do was to pull her expensive wrap closely around her for protection. She was intent on avoiding the clamor that surrounded her. Thirty feet … 20 feet! Sensing that an object traveling at an unknown velocity was about to strike her she gasped, “Oh no!” In one singular, somehow graceful motion, she covered her bouffant and disappeared into the coat’s collar. So close now, I could see the red stitching spinning against its rawhide covering. Fifteen feet! Ten feet ... Such a sight, I now suspect, must have
been too much for that baseball to resist. Maybe God laughed. Because the ball’s trajectory was altered scarcely inches from my waiting glove and dove straight down the open collar of that lady’s fur coat. It was a rare spectacle indeed. As the ball rico-
cheted against the thick fur she jumped as though someone had played an ice-cold kids joke. Her expres- sion changed from puzzled surprise to pained amaze- ment. She wanted no part of it. Seven full-grown fans leapt on the chinchilla as she struggled to break free. Frank Howard’s home run ball rolled out of her silk- lined sleeve and disappeared into a sea of grasping palms and elbows. Two minutes later, her balding escort re- turned to find his overturned beer cup and the trampled fur wrap, but no one to wear it
home. He bent over and carefully folded the coat in half. Didn’t say a word. Who ended up with that souvenir ball, we never
knew. I do remember the Dodgers rallied to beat the Giants that April afternoon, hanging on to win by one run. As we stood to leave, the gravelly voiced announcer said 78,762 fans had attended the game, witnessing the Dodgers’ first win in Los Angeles. Walking slowly back to the distant parking lot,
the guy next to us said he once saw a White Sox fan at Comisky Park eat seven Polish dogs smoth- ered in hot mustard and grilled onions in just one inning. I believed him. My dad just groaned
and muttered “Sure musta been one long inning, huh?” “Nope!” the fan
retorted, “Just one big guy!” You never know.
Because almost anything that can happen, will. Ask the ballpark blonde or me. We’ll tell you.¢
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