I only took two pictures today, even though I mentioned to Katie that I wanted to get one with her. I forgot about doing it almost immediately after I told her that, though, and it never happened. When we were arranging to meet, she told me she’s de sitting on the Embarcadero reading a book with her back to a palm tree, which felt very spy-thriller to me, so not having a photograph of our time together feels appropriate, like there’s a mystery going on. We took our time walking down the embarcadero to the game, which was not super-mysterious or spy-like, but it did give us a little time to get to know each other. I did take one halfhearted picture of a sign made by a kid in 152, but I didn’t get to ask him any questions about it, like “which Giant is that?” or “Why a partial map of the field?”
Katie isn’t especially interested in baseball, although she did grow up watching minor-league games in Rochester, New York with her dad. It doesn’t seem to have taken, though, not even to the extent that she might maintain a vestigial fondness for one team or another (the Rochester Red Wings were, when she was growing up, the AAA affiliate of the Baltimore Orioles, although well after she left, they were acquired by the Minnesota Twins and more recently the Washington Nationals). She is interested in women’s soccer, which of course brings up Ted Lasso, but only to the extent that I find out she hasn’t finished the third season yet because a recent breakup robbed her of access to an Apple TV subscription. My heart breaks a little.
There’s a lot of flag-waving at today’s game, partly because they handed out flags at the gate; I take one by reflex but put it away immediately. Enough people are wearing, waving or representing flags that I feel like that aspect of the day is covered. One woman is sporting a Stars and Stripes T-shirt on which the red stripes are replaced with long guns, and I’m overcome with a kind of weariness. I don’t know what kind of person you have to be to wear that in San Francisco, let alone to a Giants game. There is also a trio of beer-bellied meatheads who keep appearing in parts of the ballpark and shouting “U-S-A! U-S-A!” while (mostly) lining up so that their painted guts spell it out. Honestly, after the third time we saw them, I couldn’t tell if they were actually those idiots or if they were making fun of those idiots. If you can’t tell, I think it doesn’t matter.
The game starts with a decent National Anthem and then a very close flyover by an Air Force helicopter. I have to confess to a lot of disillusionment with the US and the military, but I still really love helicopters, and this one is really close; it makes a really tight circle over the park and then heads off to the south. The mix of thrill and disdain is unsettling. I don’t want to participate in the toxic rah-rah jingoism, but I also want to watch that helicopter until it’s a dot in the distance. It’s kind of like seeing someone attractive on the BART train – during the limited window of opportunity I want to look, but I also don’t want to be the dude who’s staring at someone who’s just trying to go home from work without being harassed or objectified.
In one of the between-innings scoreboard entertainment videos, various Giants players are asked whether fireworks are overrated or underrated. The count comes in at eight for underrated and none dissenting, which makes me wonder if any of them knows what underrated means. Given that as a country we apparently spend well over two billion dollars on explosives on the 4th of July every year, I have to wonder what it would take for any of them to feel like an appropriate amount of attention was being paid to pyrotechnics. Katie, who is far less vocal about her opinions than a lot of people I take to games, mostly seems to agree, but doesn’t have a lot to say about it.
That’s not to say she’s quiet or untalkative, but most of what we talk about is either personal or can’t really be summed up easily (although she does tell me that her parents’ wedding anniversary is July 4th, which we agree is a weird day to plan your wedding). She is a fun companion, though, and we actually spend a lot of time away from my seats, first getting food and then heading down to the 415 to have a look at the Mariners’ relievers, who it turns out are unnecessary because the starter throws a complete game 6-0 shutout. Although our June as great, we are definitely in the throes of a distressingly unrhymeable July swoon. The Giants have lost three in a row and seven of the last ten, which sometimes happens, but on the heels of a ten-game winning streak feels especially punishing. That’s why you play the whole season, though.
At the very end, when we’re leaving our seats, a guy in the SRO sections says “You wouldn’t happen to have any marijuana, would you?” Of course I do not, and even if I did, I don’t think I would give it to a guy who asked for it that way. It feels like I’m in the middle of a sting operation from the Simpsons, where the bumbling cops wouldn’t know to ask for weed. As I disappear in the distance, I hear him calling after me “What about just five dollars worth?” I feel like I have made the right decision, not getting involved in drugs for the last 56 years.
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