A Ballpark Surprise on the Fourth of July

Plotnik looked in the virtual mirror yesterday, and asked himself this question: Are you a fan, or aren't you? The Plotzers were in town, it was a day game, on a holiday Friday, nice weather. If he ever was going to stir his stumps to go to a game, this was the one. Plotnik figured he'd probably buy a standing room ticket, or if he couldn't find a ticket, would watch the game from the right-field viewing area, or, barring that, at the very least he'd get a bike ride in.

Now listen to what happened:

Plotnik wheeled out the Great Plotzercycle. Plotzer hat and windbreaker placed in the saddlebags along with binoculars, plus a little cash loaded into the wallet, he took off down Sanchez to San Jose, San Jose to Cesar Chavez, Cesar Chavez to 3rd St. and 3rd St. to the ballpark. Amazingly, it only took 20 minutes from World Headquarters to the bike parking area under the right field stands, which is run by SF Bicycle Coalition, and where it turns out bike parking is FREE. You can even leave your helmet. It is amazingly easy to do this. Plot may never take the train again.



Thanking the bike attendant, Plotnik turned to walk to the ticket window, when an older man tapped him on the shoulder and said: "Are you looking for a free ticket?"

"Well, I am looking for a ticket for today. I don't have one yet."

"Come with me," the man said. He looked to be in his seventies, gray beard, tall and thin, wearing a plaid shirt , black clodhopper shoes, walking with a cane and carrying a scorebook. Plot tried to engage him in conversation, but only got short answers.

"My name is The Great Plotnik. What's yours?"

"Paul."

"Where are you from?"

"Berkeley."

"How did you come to have an extra ticket?"

"Wife sick."



"Well, thank you very much, Paul. This is my lucky day."

"Yes."

Paul walked Plottie into the Field Box level and the next thing Plot knew he was sitting in row J, only ten rows up from the field, and just beyond the screen behind the plate, on the first base side. From these seats you can hear the batter grunt when he swings and misses, hear the loud CRACK when a line drive gets hit, hear the THUMP when the fastball hits the catcher's mitt, see the look of dismay on the batter's face when he hits a foul ball on a pitch he should have crushed. This was without doubt the finest place in the ballpark from which to watch a game.

"Paul, this is terrific!"

Paul had taken out his score sheet and was filling in the starting lineups.

"Yes."



Plottie thought about how he hadn't expected to be close enough to bring his glove, so he had left it at home. "Paul, we're probably in foul ball territory, aren't we?"

"No."

"No? Really?"

"Two in eight years."

Plot didn't believe him, but he was right. Foul balls passed over them, in front of them, to the right and left, but never anywhere within twenty people. Once a ball came down in Row J, but two sections down the right field line. Paul never looked up.

Once, when the Braindead Caribbeans were ahead 5-2, he said a longer sentence:

"Sanchez will go five. Bullpen will cough up the lead. It happens every time."



Plottie didn't believe him. But that's exactly what happened. Sanchez, the Braindead pitcher, lasted five innings, and the pitcher who replaced him gave up five quick runs and the game was pretty much over.

Plot kept trying. "Paul, can I buy you a beer? How about a hot dog? Ice cream sandwich?"

"No."

Just before the game started, Paul informed Plotnik he also had two free tickets for Sunday and would Plotnik like to use those?

"Well, yes, of course, I'd be delighted."

"Call me," he said, writing his phone number on the back of Plotnik's ticket. But that was before he saw Plottie's Plotzer hat.

Now, Plotnik thought long and hard about putting on that hat. After all, this man was a Braindead fan and Plot didn't want to insult him, especially thinking about those free tickets for Sunday. Yes, the doctor said always wear a hat in the sun, but screw skin cancer, these are tickets behind the plate.

But after the Caribbeans scored two runs on errors in the first inning, Plottie put the hat on. Wear it loud, wear it proud.

And when Paul did not stand up for the National Anthem or to salute the veterans in the audience in the 7th Inning, Plottie stood up anyway. Politics be damned, soldiers put their lives on the line. When everyone cheered, Plotnik cheered too. Plotnik doesn't blame Paul, he seems to have a bad knee, and if its politics, Plotnik has known many people who feel as Paul probably does, and Plot hates this war too, but that doesn't mean you disrespect soldiers.

So we'll see what happens when Plotnik calls Paul tomorrow for tickets.

The boys were out in McCovey Cove in their Zodiac boats, waiting for splash hits. It took 30 minutes to ride home, with the wind in Plottie's face the whole way, but he didn't care. What a vibey, surprising and unpredictably spectacular day.