Walk In The Rain

Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.
~ Roger Miller

This past weekend we celebrated Mr. A's birthday with my parents and my grandmother. We were instructed to bring the Wii over, so that Greatma could take on the boys and show them up in bowling. What a hoot!

Saturday before Bugaboo's game, I made Mr. A's pie. The filling was simple, and the crust came together wonderfully...until I tried to roll it out and put it into the pie plate. What a disaster! But it had a wonderful taste, and Mr. A loved it, so that's what matters.

Sunday dawned quite grey and gloomy, but the rains were supposed to hold off until the second game. Mr. A and I left early, leaving Bugaboo with my parents and grandma...they were to follow later.

We got to the field and Mr. A and his team started warming up. The first games were about finished, when the drizzle started. The rest of the family showed up, and the rain just started coming. My parents were worried about grandma getting sick, so they left before the Mr. A's game really got underway.

Now, we played in rain for most of the spring, so this wasn't out of the ordinary, but it just kept coming. In the first inning, the boys played well, bringing in three runs, and overall showing that they were the better team. They had a nice hotbox play between second and third, with the left and center fielders coming in to help out. It was a thing of beauty!

Bugaboo was beyond pissy about being out in the rain, so I sent him back to the car so I didn't have to hear his whining. At least one of us was going to be slightly dry.

In the second inning, one of our players got hit in the elbow and just about fell to the ground in pain. I learned over the summer that this player is a big baby when it comes to being hurt, so I wasn't too horribly worried, and given how he acted when he got out of the rain, well, I was right.

The coaches and the umps had a 15 minute conference about the state of the field. The batter's box was filling up with rain, and the pitcher's mound was so slippery, the pitchers skidded when they planted their front foot. So they finally called the game.

By the time Mr. A and I got to the car, we were so wet, I didn't think we'd every dry out, or get warm. The rest of the team was going out to eat, but there was no way I was going out the way I felt. So we headed home.

I don't mind a nice walk in a soft drizzle, but watching a baseball game wet to the bone? Not my favorite thing. Ah well, there's always next weekend.

Until later...