The never-ending game

The never-ending game

One of my recurring themes is tooting my horn about what a great mother I am.

I feel this way because of the baseball road trips, toilet training members of the opposite sex (only my own children, of course), living in a house with all boys, and only seeing that there are girl-colored Legos for the first time two weeks ago. Who knew there was a whole world of pink and purple Legos? I thought they only built cars and trains, came in red/green/blue/black, and to their main purpose was to teach you not to curse your head off in front of your children when you stepped on them without shoes. Sorry, I went off track there for a bit. (And I only started cursing in front of my kids recently. Am I supposed to admit that? And recently is a loose term, if I am being totally honest.)

The baseball road trips stopped the year of son #3’s bar mitzvah. We couldn’t go that summer, and then the following summer, husband #1 took the boys to Texas alone. I guess I am really only a good mother. I would be a great mother if I went with them on that trip. But, have no fear, when they called me in a panic because they couldn’t find a place to pray the evening services, I quickly went on Facebook and posted, “Houston, we have a problem,” and I got them a minyan. That changes my status back to great. Give me a second while I pat myself on the back.

Anyway, while we were in Florida for the Passover holiday, husband #1 informed me that we were going to “Jew night” at Marlins Park. That is where the Miami Marlins baseball team plays. Now, I have been to Marlins Park on one of our road trips. In fact, I am sure you all are interested to know that it was the only game we ever went to that was rained out. And someone stole son #2’s fan, and I threatened husband #1 with divorce. But that was the old stadium, and they have since built this new stadium, so sad yada yada, I had to go with them.

The scene at Jew night is probably similar to that of when God split the Red Sea, only with $13 turkey legs and $5 cans of soda. And the Maccabeats. Though, for all we know, all men
a capella groups could have started back in biblical times…

The Marlins were playing the Boston Red Sox, so I knew I was in for a real treat. (That was to be read with a sarcastic tone.) Play ball.

Son #3 and I went to get food. We brought back the food. We ate the food. And the game went on. I wasn’t really paying attention, but then I realized we were in the ninth inning (which is the last inning of the game, for those of you still paying attention) and the score was tied. “Hey guys, “ I said, “Since we aren’t really fans of either team, and they have run out of kosher food, we aren’t staying for extra innings, right?” Silly, silly mom. “Of course we are staying!”

This is when my thoughts go dark. I was eyeing the police officer who was standing guard over the stadium of Jews, wondering what minor crime I could commit in order to be asked to leave the stadium. Or what would happen if I jumped into the net that protects the fans from foul balls? Would I bounce like I was on a trampoline, or would I go crashing through and injure someone? What would happen If I went to the lost and found and told them I lost my goldfish?

Clearly I had too much time on my hands.

The 10th inning, I did a Facebook live knowing that I was using up precious data. The 11th inning, I went from 2000 steps to 8000 steps on my phone’s activity tracker. 12th inning, where is a good cocktail when you need one? 13th inning, that’s it, if it doesn’t end now, I am just walking home. And then the sky opened and the Lord answered my prayers and the game ended and now so has this column… (The Red Sox won, in case you were wondering.)

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is still hoping that this will be the year the Mets win the pennant. And that she finds Keith Hernandez’s head from his Starting Lineup action figure that she bought back in the ’80s…

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