A hawk hovered above the ballpark as Heisey strode to the plate. Drew Stubbs had walked on four pitches, making Heisey the tying run in a game where his team was down by two runs in their last at bat. It wasn’t impossible, but given the way the game had been going, you had to wonder how many people were thinking “just get this over with” so they could get out of the cold.
The weather could have been worse, could have been far, far worse. It could have been snowy like it had been a few weeks ago when I attended the Rockies game in Denver. It could have been rainy. The sun came out at various times throughout the game and there were moments when it was actually pleasant. Of course, that could have been aided by the thermal long underwear I was sporting beneath all the other layers I wore.
It was something of a shock to walk through the area where Riverfront once stood. I hadn’t been to GABp since the Opening Day game of 2009, when nothing but concrete columns rose from the mud that had once been the foundation for so many Reds glories. I felt like I was in a different city, or perhaps a dream where you are in a real life familiar place that has been altered by unconsciousness. You can’t even see the stadium until you stand in front of it. It’d be pretty darn awesome to live in one of those condos, however, at least in the summer. Maybe I’ll put that on my bucket list.
The game was a snoozer. I remember lamenting how bored I was and how infrequent were my trips to the park. This may or may not have been the reason that the people behind me were so annoying. They never shut up about inane subjects that had nothing to do about baseball. It wasn’t until the ninth inning when one made the comment “Maybe we should talk about baseball.” That was before the bottom of the ninth began.
That’s when I saw the hawk.
It was like something in a movie when the main character sees a sign of something to come. I felt a heaviness lift from my heart and I said to myself, “we’re gonna win.” What was a hawk doing flying through the downtown of a city? Heisey got a hit. “Wow,” I told myself. “I felt that was going to happen!” But the feeling didn’t change. Votto got a hit and the Reds were on the board. One more run, no outs, two on. Phillips got a hit, typing the game and bringing Bruce to the plate.
“He’s gonna do it!”
And it was done.
The fireworks were late; either t
he guy in charge of letting them off had fallen asleep over the course of the first eight innings, left in disgust, or was so caught up in the moment of the win that he (or she) forgot to let them off while jumping up and down.
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