A few days back, hubby won two tickets to our local baseball team's home game. We've been to see the Goldeyes play before, but these seats were in row ONE, which was a first.
When we got to the ballpark, I had one thing, and one thing only on my mind. Something I had been eagerly anticipating since I found out we were going.
Was it the thought of seeing all those young, athletic, hunky players up close and personal?
Was it the thought of watching the game at field level to catch all the thrilling action?
Was it the thought of having a good chance of catching an errant fly ball?
But the elderly lady who was sitting beside me thought so. She grinned when she saw me pull out my old southpaw Cooper glove.
"Oh good" she sighed. "At least you'll save me if a ball comes this way." She was very nervous about sitting so close to the field. "I don't think that little fella will be much protection."
I had to agree. The ball boy in front of us was the smallest I had ever seen. But I smiled and nodded to relieve her of her worries.
Little did she know that I only brought my glove to catch something even better. The one thing I had been eagerly anticipating since I found out we were coming here.
The huge bags of hot, sinfully-delicious cinnamon sugar mini-donuts I was about to pig out on during the next nine innings.
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