Last night, something marvelous happened. I almost saw something as cool as Dane Cook’s description of a chick getting hit in the face by a tire, but I didn’t have to suffer through any NASCAR to see it. While I was casually sitting at the local baseball game, every foul ball would draw my attention as I simultaneously hoped and feared that someone would not be paying attention. Finally, it happened. On a towering foul ball down the third base line, a chick who was sitting carelessly and mentally recounting the last episode of What Not To Wear got plunked right on the top of the head. This was no soft contact; that thing had some momentum on it.
I’ll take this time to point out that I think she’s fine. It was a fly ball, not a line drive, so it probably didn’t cause significant damage. She definitely survived the ordeal; they carried her off and an ambulance came within minutes to check her out. Also, I didn’t notice any news stories this morning about someone having died at a baseball game, or I’d be treating this a bit more tactfully.
The best part of the story was the guy sitting next to her. The man was looking forward the entire time, and even after everyone was calling out and turning and the oblivious woman had gotten hit, he continued to look forward. He turned to her for a second, put his hand on her, and kept looking forward, seemingly indifferent to the situation. People rushed to her aid and he still didn’t seem to care. I have to believe that he had seen that ball coming and, for one reason or another, had chosen to let her get hit. To be fair, it was a hot night and, if his situation was anything like mine, he was coerced into going to the game by someone who was eager to see cute dogs (it was “Bark in the Park” night). A convenient foul ball may have been just what the doctor ordered to get into some air conditioning.
I hope her contusions – and their relationship – are healing well.