Rain, Rain Go Away!

It started off as a great idea. Let's take Grandma and Grandpa to the Indians game! Let's get peanuts and Twizzlers and Cracker Jack to take with us! Let's sit out in the bleachers for the first time right next to Grady Sizemore! Everyone was over the moon about this game.

But then came the weather report, Andre Bernier's gloomy forecast of thunder and rain. We checked the radar and it looked like it might be over and done with before we even needed to head downtown. Who cares if it pours all afternoon, as long as it's done by 7:05 pm.

Everything seemed ok as we headed down to the Jake, I mean Progressive Field. We were prepared with ponchos but they would prove futile in fighting off the impending storm.

Grady warming up and then looking at me!!

It was so exciting in the park. We saw a bunch of new soldiers get sworn in, heard the national anthem (we usually miss this part), watched Grady and the boys warming up, and were ready to cheer on the Tribe. So of course we were pumped when Grady hit a first-inning home run. Fireworks went off and we cheered with our mouths full of Cracker Jack.

And then it was all downhill from there. We saw the threatening clouds rolling in from the west and soon felt the first drops fall. We pulled out the ponchos, but soon the rain was coming down so hard we had to find shelter under the bleachers...along with the rest of the crowd. It is so much fun being packed shoulder to shoulder in front of the men's bathroom, trying to calm Brooke down, listening to loud-mouthed know-it-alls babbling about baseball, and breathing in that wretched stench of beer. "Mom, what's that smell?" "That, my dear, is beer. Learn it, hate it, stay away from it." Life lessons underneath section 183.

The crowd and the rain seemed to thin out, and we were hopeful that we could soon hear "Play ball!" We even ventured back to our seats for a few more minutes. But the weather would prevail, and as the clock ticked steadily on, and the tarp stayed in its place on the field, we decided to call it a night. What a bummer. I was hoping that they would call the game, so that maybe we could go the next day, or at least sell the tickets to someone. It just seemed like such a waste. But you cannot control fate, and now we have a night we will never forget. Just for different reasons that we had originally hoped for.

Looking on the bright side--the ponchos kept those of us under 5'6" totally dry. Emergency ponchos--giving short people everywhere a reason to live.