I just had two cavities filled. I hate going to the dentist. I hate the way you’re constantly gagging, and they say “just one more little bit…” and then they do five more things. My dentist is very good and patient with me, but that doesn’t make me hate the experience any less. The worst part is that my anxiety acts up, and I suddenly find that my entire body is clenching with it. So, today, whenever I noticed my fists in balls and my legs spasming, I squeezed my eyes tight and replayed this Brandon Phillips diving catch from last night over and over and over in my head until they were done.
It was a marathon game. Fourteen innings (have you ever sung “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” TWICE in a single game?). By the end, the 500 or so fans who stuck around were punch-drunk and whooping like loons (or, apparently, like Ric Flair) at each other. My 93-year-old grandfather lasted the whole time; my mom was SCREAMING at the players to just Make. A. Damn. Play. And when Ludwick finally batted in Mesoraco at 12:34 in the morning and we howled and whooped and cheered and rolled ourselves sleepily to the parking garage, I came away from the game the person who has an internal reel of replays that are, apparently, better than novocaine.