Just a game

I was having a stressful afternoon yesterday and wondering if I would make it to the game at all, but my tennis coach got me half priced tickets to the Aces game last night, and I made it to Jeffrey's in time despite a stomachache and three forced detours. We walked over and found our seats- the best we've ever had- and shared a pretty good (and messy) burger. We caught up on each other's lives, laughed with the people sitting around us,  and cheered on the Aces and occasionally the other team when we weren't paying enough attention or when a member of the Baby Cakes had a particularly nice butt.
After playing a month of kickball, we were both newly impressed with the athletic skill on display. There were a couple home runs, but the throws! Oh, the throws. One guy threw this perfect low arc from the far outfield to home plate. The crowd roared, because how the hell...

"Why can't I throw like that, Jeffrey?"
"Because you aren't semi-pro."

Ah. Fair enough.

Even the foul balls were crazy good. I'd be super proud if I hit a foul ball 1/5 of that distance. In other words, they played baseball, but we enjoyed it more, imagining how much closer our bases are to each other and marveling that their hits to the back wall only result in a double. Sometimes ours do too, according to some rule the ump called out at our last game.

We lost that one too, but we are not nearly as bad as we all thought we'd be. We practice weekly, and I think we may win one by skill at least once this season. Jeffrey asked me last night if I was going to play softball. As much as I like the idea of it, the anxiety it gives me outweighs any fun. I played one whole season, so I'm good. I may play kickball again. Jeffrey felt the same way, so we may just be the resident peanut gallery of support for our favorite softball team. Start up a Wiffle ball game though, and I'm there.

As is May in Reno (or potentially anytime here, really), it got cold and windy when the sun went down. Colder than expected or planned for. We shivered through it, because neither of us was willing to leave. We stayed through the end of the game for the fireworks set off to a Katy Perry medley, then shivered over to Harrah's for hot chocolate (Jeffrey) and a London Fog hot tea for me. Somewhat warmed, we headed back to Jeffrey's, where he put some peanut butter on the most delicious bread, and after we talked a while, he played guitar and sang some songs he'd written and some he hadn't and a couple we both knew.

It was a really lovely night, and we agreed that while we'll remember that it was cold, we'll remember the fireworks more. It was a feast last night with the grilled onions and cheesy mustard of the burger, the green, brown and white on the field against the blue sky, chair dancing while being huddled together, craning up at the bangs and cracks of the orange, smoky, and curling fireworks, chewing on an open faced peanut butter sandwich and sipping what truly felt like London fog while absorbing the tones of an acoustic guitar- that is a sound that truly can't be replicated recorded. That night that was sewn into my memory.