I can bore all my nephews and all their children for the next forty years with the story of being there for Ryan Braun's first major league grand slam. WOO-HOO! "I was right behind home plate*, and seven innings after I was almost killed by a foul ball that left a dent in the wall by the press box..."**
I wonder if I could get a poster of that photo. Or this one.
*On the second level, but who puts that sort of detail in a story for children about the olden times?
**It hit a couple of feet over my head as I was coming back with a snack. Maybe God's trying to tell me to lay off the bratwurst...
I spent 8 innings mentally planning a snarky "what recession?" post bitching about the two couples next to me who spent 9 innings talking about their children and their remodeling and not only not paying a whit of attention to the game--who drops $100/couple to have a conversation you could have at any Starbucks for under $10? Is this one of those "married people things" I'm not allowed to understand??--but being audibly annoyed at people clapping, cheering, and going for beer (also, ladies, if you don't want to get beer on your toes, don't wear flip-flops to the baseball game). But this is a lot better.