Game Night: Don the Bullet Proof Vest

Both Stryker and Merrick participate in that time-tested American ritual called Little League baseball.  Stryker's a full-fledged leager; Merrick still hits the ball off the T.

Tonight is another game night.   The Matron wishes she were currently drinking alcohol.  Why?

Her Little League is located on the East Side of St. Paul, a neighborhood characterized by a significant population of  humanity's most elemental and uneducated, with isolated patches of sanity (like the one in which they live) nestled within.

Lest you think she's exaggerating.  . . . did you hear the one about the Little League parent who threatened to shoot down his son's coach like a dog?  That field would be the one where the Matron is headed tonight.  (the parent was found guilty, by the way, and served jail time--the coach's family moved)

Let that article and incident shed a little light on the social milieu in which the Matron will find herself tonight.  Even so, the Matron has learned to enjoy these games.  She's fond of the players and is not herself immune to the thrill of the game, the joy in seeing your guy hit that triple or field that hit.  

But.  Still.  She cannot tolerate the screaming.    The parental shrill - the nonstop whoop and rabid lather that accompany teams by the bleacher-full.  Truly, gunfire might be better.

Last week was a case in point.  The other team wore blue and--surprise!--about 20 blue-clad parents assembled in bulk upon the bleachers . . . .where upon they proceeded to SCREAM (encouragement, dissent, despair, joy, the need to urinate or burp--whatever) for the entire two hours.

The Matron drew dignity about her and left even her own little hoary  'go stryker's' at home.  She simply could not add to the din.  It was horrible!  

Then tragedy transpired.  The blue team's new pitcher slipped up in the sixth inning of what had been a tie game and Stryker's team pulled ahead.  Okay, started trampling the blue team in the painful, ten-run an inning way that nobody likes to see--not even the winner.

Here's where the blue team boosters got ugly.  Instead of cheers, there were jeers.  Why, who knew Umpires were actually bat-sucking ass-lickers!  Thanks for letting us in on that, parents!   One woman got particularly agitated.  She claimed that the game should be over because one team was ahead by ten runs - -the 'ten run rule.'   This is a rule for the Minor league which puts a mercy ending to a game when a team is ahead by ten runs.  Stryker's league is a step above and this rule doesn't apply.

Now the Matron just happened to be chatting with, B,  the parent volunteer in charge of umpires while this woman went beserk.   She started yelling at the umpire to end the game.  Yelling?  Actually, she went onto the field and grabbed his face mask -- just in case she didn't have his attention!

The umpires are about 17 years old.  This one was so intimidated he walked off the field. 

B:  "Hey!  You own this game, not her.  You're right.  You're in charge.  Get back on."

In the meantime, the children were confused.

The umpire got back behind the plate and tried again.

Undaunted, the woman was on her cell phone --ostensibly trying to identify some Little League Expert in the Sky to address this unacceptable situation.  Her next move was the concession stand, in search of a rule book allowing her end this game -- that her son's team was losing very badly.

Then she started yelling at B.  

When that didn't work?  This crazed parent went to the score board--the kind where you slap up a large magnet holding a number -- and took down the entire board!  The runs, the outs, the innings -- she removed every bit of evidence and tracking material.

And guess what!  She effectively ended the game.

And the children were confused.  

That's where the Matron is headed tonight.