Who’s the child?

April 9, 2008

After freezing various body parts for the third consecutive game in Pawtucket, I’m about fed up with this weather. Tomorrow’s supposed to be 70 degrees and the game starts at noon. The only issue with the Thursday game is my schedule. I’m supposed to report for jury duty and I guess I’ll obey the court and show up. Maybe I’ll get out of there early enough to dash down to RI for the game.

But that’s not why I’m writing tonight. I’m blogging right now because I’m annoyed at parents who don’t take the time to train their children to behave. Parents who are idiots and act like crack addicts. Parents who are dumber than the neoprene case that holds my cell phone. I have one word…IDIOTS!

What’s brought this up is the behavior tonight of a cute little white-trash offspring. During the game I sat cold and happy in my seat watching the child jump around and whine at the players—shouting for a baseball. I smiled at this activity and then paid attention to the game. During the second inning Joe Thurston (I think) ended the inning with a catch and ran toward the dugout.

On his way in I waved to him and he waved back and then indicated he was going to throw me the ball. I nodded and put my hand out to catch the ball.

Well, the throw to me was a little short and the snot-nosed kid grabbed the ball after it bounced off the base of the step next to me. Bah!

I told myself the balls thrown into the stands are mostly for kids and I might still qualify mentally, but I didn’t fit the physical mold anymore. So I smiled and continued to watch the game.

As the game continued, the receipt of a ball by this little girl had awakened in her a glutton for baseballs. Now, regardless of the play or activity on the field, she began yelling for baseballs every 14 seconds or so.

Annoying? Yes. Something to lose your mind over? Not hardly. I let her yelling blend into the other noises at the park and watched my team continue to play.

Then the bottom of the fourth inning arrived and Brandon Moss ended the inning with a putout at first base. I waved to him and he waved back and threw me a ball. Again, it fell short and the little gremlin girl who already had one ball dashed toward me and grabbed it.

I realized that it would have been in bad taste to toss her onto the field, but I was now a little irked.

And when it happened a third time (YES, SHE ENDED UP WITH THREE BALLS TONIGHT) I decided that I was declaring a war on interlopers who sit in the box seats around me. It’s the only thing I can do to keep parents and their ill-behaved children away from me for the remaining 60 or so games I’ll attend this season.

Am I a child for being annoyed by her actions? Is her life enriched Veruca-Salt-wise by glomming three baseballs? Maybe both, maybe neither. But if I see that family again this season it will be too soon.

Perhaps all this whining is just the result of a day in April being 39 degrees and windy. Give me some Spring already!

More to come…