My husband had reached the half century mark before I met him, but every spring I meet again the little boy who listened to the St. Louis Cardinals religiously on his AM radio.
His friends say he could have been a professional pitcher prospect if not for Vietnam. He loves every nuance of the game, particularly as it relates to his Cardinals.
The Cardinals were kind enough to come to town for his 51st birthday. We were dating and lived in Houston then. I seized the opportunity to throw a SkyBox party in the Astrodome. I sealed the deal the following Christmas with a framed Dizzy Dean autograph and a Gashouse Gang bar mirror. We were married by the next spring training.
When I wanted to spice things up in our marriage this summer, I took him to Cooperstown.
Charlie doesn't bleed red, he bleeds redbird. His feelings are rooted not in blind, barfight chauvinism, but a careful study of the dynamics of each team and a support that does not waiver with pitching weakness or batting slumps.
We try to get to at least one spring training game each year and coordinate our travels for a few regular season games. Peanuts in the shell, a cold beer and a scorecard are Charlie's favorite accessories.
The closest professional ball park is five hours away and , even worse, it's Atlanta. (They're not in the same division any more but there's a history....).
When we learned we could purchase a season pacakge from our satellite company last year, it was the excuse he'd been looking for to finally get that wide screen television. With surround sound, peanuts and beer in place, Charlie was indeed home.
But the satellite stoped working when it was raining, or when it looked like it could rain, or sometimes when it looked like it could be raining somewhere else. We switched to digital cable in the off season with the assurance the MLB package was available.
While checking something else on the cable company website last month, I mentioned that the first week of the season was going to be a Free Preview.
I forgot about it, but Charlie took the stairs two at a time when he came home from work yesterday. I got a quick kiss on the way to the remote control. The Cards season opened at 4:10. It was already 4:30. But there was nothing on the appropriate channel. We called the number on the screen.
I spent the first 25 minutes on hold before handing off the phone in frustration. When a live person finally appeared she explained they had started a new computer system today and things were taking a little while longer. Unseen innings clicked away as she walked slowly through the process returning him to "hold" every few minutes.
When she finally said we were all set up, the screen still showed only a very large, very sharp phone number to call.
She then declared the system must not be working. I was vicariously furious for Charlie, but he took it in stride. Baseball fans know it's a long season. The game is slow and subtle.
As a football fan, I wanted to go to the cable office and tackle somebody. But Charlie is a baseball kind of guy.
He is not, however, a saint. If he has to miss today's game too, I could see him taking his perfectly balanced, handcrafted Cooperstown bat upside someone's head at the cable office.
Every guy has his limits. It would only take one baseball fan in the jury box and he'd walk.



Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs