While the family was in San Francisco last month, we caught a Giants game. It was a beautiful day. We walked to the game like city folk and squealed with delight (maybe only I squealed) when we arrived at the stellar seats a friend had wrangled for us. Second Row Batters Box. Hot Damn.

I guess this is the point where I should admit that I could give a rip shit about baseball. Hit the ball. Run the bases. Tight pants. Spit. Scratch. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So as thrilled as I was to be close enough to see the catcher’s butt crack, I was much more intrigued by the menu that was in my drink holder. And hello? I didn’t even have to get up and walk the long trek to the concession area because there was the sweetest little girl standing by to grant our every overpriced junk food desire.

I really thought nothing could beat the blissful feeling of the sun on my face, a bloody mary in hand and a lap full of nachos but my attention soon shifted when halfway through the third inning, a very interesting couple took their seats in front of us. Batters Box First Row. Damn, they beat us.



Now, this was no ordinary couple. They were exuberant, effervescent and chocked full of themselves as well as the desire to display their affection with sugar on top. I could not help but be sucked in.

During the seventh inning stretch, my husband leaned over to me and asked how I was enjoying the game. It was then that I briefly snapped out of the first row soap opera unfolding in front of me and realized that I had been blatantly eavesdropping. And my cup was empty.

Before you judge me, know this. I am a people watcher. And these people were like presents under my very own Christmas tree.

First of all, he was loaded. Like with a capital DED. He was dripping in purple labels and boy bling. He was at least 10 years older than his date and very secure in his caviar dreamlike status.

She wore sunglasses even as the fog blanketed the stadium in order to hide the dollar signs that flashed like a neon motel vacancy from her eyes. Even though it was a cool afternoon, she soon removed her sweater. She was working up a sweat trying to snare this guy.



I watched her play with his jewelry and spoon feed him clam chowder from a bread bowl. I heard all about their weekend plans to Napa.

“When we get there, I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise??”
He nodded.
“You know what kind of surprise I want.”
She didn’t wait for him to bite.
“I want diamonds”, she said as she nuzzled his neck.
“Or a new car..”, she whispered.

By this time, I was on the edge of my seat. Seriously, I was hooked like a fish. I wanted to yell/cough into my hand, “PRENUP!” because I was clearly rooting for the guy but …wait…they were getting up…they were leaving…oh shit…oh no…the game was over. But it went so fast!

As bummed as I was that the afternoon sped by so quickly, I definitely left with a deeper understanding of “America’s favorite pastime”. I cannot wait to go to my next baseball game!

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