"We damn well deserve to see some quality players after the night we had," I mumble as we pass the gate.
Then it happened, a beautiful man, wearing white and practically glowing passed me by.
"Wa-wa-was that FELIX?" I ask my co-worker. The angels in heaven began to sing, and my heart sang. It was. He was right in front of me, not three feet away. I was blushing and giggling. He briefly looked at me, probably not even long enough to register my existence. But that was it for me. I was having a great night.
This is what is going to happen tomorrow.
He will pitch nine, count them, nine scoreless innings. He will sit in the dugout between innings, feeling an expected sense of accomplishment, but also thinking why. His mind will flash to a girl with the short curly hair in the merchandising uniform. Despite the pants being so unflattering, there was just something about her. He'll throw strike after strike, all the while thinking, "I must find her." Once he clinches the game, we will toss of his glove and follow his heart, jumping the fence, climbing the stairs and arriving at my stand. I will look up in shock and awe.
"What are you doing here?"
"Venga conmigo," he'll say and in one fail swoop knock all the bobbleheads and foam fingers off the counter. As they shatter on the floor I will laugh and say, "But this is crazy."
"Venga," he'll reply. I'll leap across the counter and into his arms. He will carry me out of the stadium amid the roars and cheers of the crowd. I'll take the hat off his head and put it on mine a la "An Officer and a Gentlemen."
"You pitched beautifully tonight," I'll say.
"Te amo," he'll reply.
So, I will be unreachable for a while. I am going to be in Venezuela for the next month on my honeymoon. I will see you all when I return.
Buenas Noches.
