I was never hip with seagulls dumping their feces on my shoulders, but never connected random dots of a bad day and concluded, “well ain’t that icing on the cake,” but it is one of the most foul-smelling icings I’ve ever sniffed.
And it makes sense since seagulls aren’t opposed to rummaging through frat boy vomit and flying above smoke stacks and what not.
I like omens and rain dance, symbols and religions. Any effort to understand existence is more than ok in my book. I tip my hat or I don’t; for the reasons mentioned above.
They also drive me batty, but a life without symbols is not only dull, but dangerous. It’s a matter of survival for me; psychologically speaking. I need the false hopes and paranoia like an egg needs oil to sizzle.
I once heard that seagull droppings bring good luck. I welcomed the notion like a walk off suicide squeeze. I didn’t perform any dances to evoke seagull feces, but I filed it away just in case and good thing I did.
I returned one day to the same park bench where I had previously been bombed by a seagull. I figured the same gull in the same spot would probably not strike twice. I watched scenes appear and then disappear. It’s good for my mind; soak up all the tragedy. I sat there for at least two hours. It was a busy day with lots of people traffic.
There was one conversation with a stranger that slipped into baseball or it didn’t slip. I forced it on the guy, but he didn’t seem to mind.. We ping ponged back and forth; from Larry Parrish to the Jarry Park organ player, the 1981 playoffs, Bill Lee, who hit the most home runs as an Expo? a beautiful random baseball mess.
His parting words were a quote and that struck me as both strange and annoying. Sobered me up and I wasn’t even drunk. I always prefer hearing what the person in front of me has to say instead of regurgitated cud from some dead geezer.
But I was there to remind myself that nothing lasts forever including my own ideas or rigidity I guess. The stranger stood up and I could tell from his deep breath that he was quoting someone. He said, “when a baseball game enters your blood stream, the deepest philosophies of the most abstract thinkers become the baby’s rattle of the riddle solved.”
I pulled notebook and pen from my pocket and scribbled the quote verbatim. I can be such a hypocrite. Before I could say anything he added, “the author is for you to discover” and then he walked away looking like a discovery ship. Actually he looked like someone with a bad back, but he managed to not spoil my own joy of discovery or the possibility, somewhere down the road.
There was some of that blood in Tuesday night’s Pirates-Brewers game. Carlos Gomez versus Gerrit Cole/Travis Snider round 2; their first encounter since last month’s altercation. The media hype was not necessary. The game has enough blood all by itself.
Gomez apparently bumped into Snider at a Milwaukee steak joint Monday night. They shook hands and apologized. And then Gomez nodded to Cole before his first at bat. End of the nonsense.
The game was a rematch between Cole and Marco Estrada. I’ve never seen Estrada fall behind as many hitters as he did Tuesday night. He reached 100 pitches in the 5th inning and yet, he had Pirate batters out in front of his change-up on fastball counts. Pop ups. One after another. And the sixth inning? Estrada’s only 1-2-3 inning.
Gerrit Cole pitched much better; threw way more strikes, but the Brewers made the most of their opportunities; stealing second and third base with two outs and Braun up in the third inning. A huge risk not worth taking , but the throw from the catcher was high. Runner safe at third. Jonathan Lucroy followed with a shallow fly ball to right center field. Josh Harrison went back before going in and the ball dropped. Two runs scored.
The Brewers never trailed. Final score; Brewers 5, Pirates 2. The Brewers are 25-14.