It was the bottom of the fifth at the new Yankee Stadium. The boy of no more than six returned from the bathroom ahead of his lagging father. The boy scurried to his seat and picked up the magazine. He looked up at me and asked, ‘What happened?’
I replied, ‘A-Rod flied out to right. And Cano is on first.’
A bit confused, he looked back at me and inquired, ‘How did they get two runs? Did Swisher hit a homerun?’
I looked at him equally confused. ‘No, it’s still three to nothing.’
It was a friend’s birthday, and she had suggested a Yankees game to celebrate. The brunch she was having with friends proved a bit early, so we chose to meet at the stadium before the game. After a quick stroll around the new sports complex immediately adjacent to the stadium – and the location of the old Yankee Stadium – we met up with the crew and entered.
We climbed the stairs and proceeded to our seats among the Bleacher Creatures in section 201. Although we could not see left field from our seats, there were three large screen televisions to our right to aid us should any ball travel beyond our line of sight. In addition, we did not have the benefit of being able to see the giant scoreboard since we were directly beneath it. But there is an abbreviated horizontal scoreboard that extends across the front of the stadium, which gave us enough information about the current state of affairs.
In the bleachers sat an eclectic mix of young and old. Bud Light flowed like water into the cups of most fans. I decided to stick to water as I was saving the extensive alcohol intake for later in the day. In front of us sat an older gentleman and his five year old kid, who was fully garbed in Colorado Rockies attire. As a Yankees fan, I cannot help but feel disdain for anyone not wearing white, navy blue, or the barely acceptable ‘Away’ gray. But, I decided to make an exception as I immediately recognized a father-son outing replete with the father teaching the son how to score the game.
In the middle of the second inning, the father turned and asked if we would watch their stuff while they went to the bathroom. The kid, at that point, was not making eye contact. When they returned with a beer – presumably for the father – and a hot dog with ketchup (such a travesty), play had already resumed. The kid asked his father what had happened fully expecting him to know. I volunteered, ‘A-Rod got out on a five three.’ The father lit up, and aided his son in the correct scoring.
Over the next couple innings, we chatted briefly. They had traveled from Colorado to watch a few games at Yankees Stadium, and they just happened to come for Old Timer’s Day. In fact, the father told me about how they had run into Goose Gossage in the elevator of their hotel. When the kid very earnestly told Goose that he wanted the Rockies to win, Goose answered, ‘Well, I hope not.’
In the fourth, the father asked me to take a picture of him and his boy. I took his iPhone and snapped what I considered to be a pretty good shot of them with the field extending behind them. After I handed the phone back to the father, the kid looked up at me for the first time and said, ‘What happened?’ I answered honestly, ‘I don’t know; I was taking your picture. But I know he got out.’ The boy harrumphed and went back to concentrating on the next batter.
In the middle of the fifth – just before play was to resume – the kid needed to use the bathroom again. Again, the father asked us to watch his stuff. And off they went. A-Rod flied out to right. Cano got a hit. That’s when the kid descended the stairs – with his father lagging behind – and snuck back to his book. He opened it hastily and looked up at me. ‘What happened?’ I told him. ‘How did they get two runs? Did Swisher hit a homerun?’
I made a concerted effort to understand where he had seen the two. The score at that point was three to nothing. The Rockies had five hits and the Yanks had one. The Rockies had no errors and the Yanks had one. I looked at every other number on the board, and there was no two. I looked at him and responded, ‘No, it’s still three to nothing. Swisher’s at the plate.’
As soon as I finished speaking, the crowd roared. Nick Swisher sent a ball hurtling into the right field seats; he and Cano both scored. Amazed, I glanced down at the kid, who was busy filling in the appropriate boxes on the score sheet. I tried to understand if the kid understood what he had just said. But Posada sent a ball to deep center that made the stadium erupt. By the time the roar had ceased, the time to analyze had passed. Instead, the occurrence passed into the realm of that abyss between the sublime and the mundane. I leave you to draw your own conclusions…
Monday, June 27, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Taste of Metal
He placed his hand on the grip and wrapped his index finger around the trigger. He wondered what this moment might feel like, this moment of both ultimate power and weakness. He lifted the dead weight and placed it square on his undeveloped chest. There was a moment of chilled discomfort which prompted him to adjust the piece slightly. Both arms hung lifelessly by his side.
He stared down the barrel wanting to feel happy or angry or at least impressed by the ingenuity that created such a weapon. His mind wandered to stories of wrist slitting and self-hanging. He admired those who could take their lives in such a noble way. But he couldn’t do it. He needed this gun.
A southpaw, he brought his left up to the gun and moved the now warm metal up to just below his chin. He formed an ‘o’ with his lips and stuck the gun in like a popsicle. The barrel struck his teeth causing him to flinch; the gun fell from his mouth onto his left arm and then onto the floor with a thud. A shiver ran down his spine. He spit onto the throw rug, trying to extract the metallic taste. For an instant, he had the urge to flee, if only because the metal on his teeth made him remember the multiple fillings he had endured.
He rolled over on the couch and reached for the gun; it was just out of his reach. ‘Shit,’ he said aloud as he rolled onto his back. His eyes closed; the smell of something rotten filled his nostrils.
He found himself in a dirt pit with sides as high as cliffs. Above him men and animals leapt across the chasm. He grasped a root that stuck out of the wall of dirt and yanked it, only to find that the tree to which it had been connected had died long ago. A yelp came from above; one of the animals hadn’t made the leap. Down it came tumbling against rock and dirt. ‘Nothing can survive that fall,’ he thought to himself. He pressed himself against the side hoping to avoid both the falling debris and the animal itself. He expected a thud, but heard instead an eloquent thump. He opened his eyes, and there before him stood a King Cobra, both beautiful and terrible. Fear washed over him. Not this way, he thought. Not by a snake in a pit. The snake smiled at him, his teeth a bright white with fangs longer than the mouth should be able to contain. Except it was a human smile. He looked into its eyes and saw not the eyes of a serpent but of a man, a pensive man who was considering his options for escape.
‘If we work together, we can essscape,’ the cobra lisped between his giant teeth.
He stared at the teeth and considered whether he should respond.
‘I will not bite you; I am not hungry,’ the snake admitted in an even tone. ‘If you wait, however, you will be consssumed.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, almost willing not to be scared.
‘I ate a man before I fell into this pit. I am no longer hungry.’
‘Oh.’
‘Shall we essscape?’ The snake moved its head toward him.
Suddenly, he felt no fear for the cobra but for what existed outside the pit. ‘I don’t know if I want to.’
‘You would rather remain here with me then? We can wait. They will sssave me; I am rare. You are not.’
He felt indignation at the snake’s claim. ‘I’m a man. They would save me.’
‘You are worthlessssss,’ the cobra spat.
‘And you are a killer. They will kill you.’
‘Yesss. If I kill too many men. But I will not. I will kill enough to sssate my thirssst. And no one will know the differenssse.’
‘They will know if you eat me.’
‘They will think it ssself defenssse,’ the snake slurred.
He considered the snake’s stance for a moment and realized he had no defense. ‘And if I do want to escape?’ he inquired. ‘What makes me think I can believe that you would be true to your word?’
‘I have not given my word, my friend. You have little choissse in the matter.’
‘There’s always a choice.’
‘Yesss, between the frying pan and the fire. Which will it be?’
He considered his position. ‘I’d rather neither if I have the choice.’
Something akin to a laugh escaped from behind the snake’s forked tongue. ‘But you don’t.’
‘If I were to agree, what must I do?’
‘Trussst me.’ The snake smiled.
‘Fine. What do I need to do?’
‘You mussst kill a man.’
‘I am a pacifist.’
The snake laughed again. ‘You are a liar.’
‘I am not. I’ve never hurt anyone. I’ve never so much as got into a fight.’
‘You’ve never had the desssire to hurt anyone? Ever?’ the snake asked mockingly. ‘I think you have.’ The words lingered in the pit; they caused a recurring echo that grew louder in his ears.
‘Stop! Stop, please! I’ll do whatever you want.’
‘Even kill sssomeone?’
‘Yes, if I must,’ he whimpered.
‘You mussst.’
A stone hurtled down and struck the dirt beside him. Another came soon after. ‘What’s going on?’ he questioned the snake.
‘It’sss your opportunity. Take it while you can.’ The snake spoke while trying to avoid the falling rocks.
‘What do you mean?’
The snake looked up. And suddenly a rope descended with a single man attached to its end. The man immediately saw the snake but did not see the other inhabitant of the pit. He struck at the snake with some kind of tool meant to paralyze it.
He knew it was his chance. In an instant the tool struck the snake leaving it unconscious. The snake tamer extracted a burlap bag and stuffed the snake inside. Still, he did not see the other man in the pit. He was about to give a tug when the other man revealed himself.
‘Please help me. I need to get out of this pit,’ were the first words from his mouth.
Startled, the man wielded the snake paralyzer and struck at the other man, who barely avoided the strike. He then grabbed the rope and attempted to tug. Meanwhile, the trapped man leapt from the ground and tackled the snake charmer.
‘Look,’ he said,’ I just want to get out of here.’
The snake charmer elbowed the trapped man squarely in the jaw dislodging him for a moment. He yanked the rope with his next moment and waited impatiently for the rope to ascend. But the trapped man was on him again, pulling at his clothing and hair.
‘You have to help me,’ he screamed. ‘You can’t leave me down here.’
The snake charmer pulled a small knife from his belt and swiped cutting open the trapped man’s leg. Blood gushed from the wound. But the adrenaline rush kept the trapped man focused on his goal. He grabbed for the snake charmer’s hand with his left hand and punched him in the mouth with his right. The snake charmer dropped the knife. The trapped man snatched the knife and in one moment stabbed at the snake charmer’s abdomen. It was a fatal strike. The snake charmer struggled with what little strength he had but it was not enough. The trapped man extracted the knife and cut the rope. He then grabbed the bag with the snake and pulled hard on the rope. In an instant, he was ascending from the pit.
While ascending, the snake somehow slithered from the bag onto his arm and wrapped itself securely around his midsection. ‘Are you ready?’ asked the snake.
At the moment he looked down, the snake buried its fangs into his stomach. The venom spread almost instantly throughout his body. He felt the life drain from the body he had inhabited. Except, he didn’t feel as though he was dying. Of course, he had never actually died – or at least he had never recalled dying in the past – so he couldn’t be certain that this wasn’t dying. But something in his consciousness told him that he wasn’t.
‘How do you like thisss essscape?’ he heard the snake’s voice say.
He opened his eyes and immediately noticed a change. ‘I’m a snake,’ he thought to himself.
‘But you aren’t, my friend. I am the ssssnake. You are my unfortunate guesssst.’ The slurring wracked his mind. ‘I look forward to your sssstay…’
His eyes opened. The sweat glistened on his brow. He listened to his breath. In and out. In and out. In and out. As he breathed, the memory of his dream faded. There was dirt. And falling stones. No way out. Nothing he could do. And there was someone. Or something. There was fear. He breathed. In and out. He tried to remember. The memory teetered on the edge of an abyss. He closed his eyes again and focused. He felt himself losing consciousness; he had never been able to revisit a dream. But this one was important. He knew it. He had to go back. He felt the weightlessness of sleep. ‘Ssssam…’
‘Sam!’ The exclamation yanked him from the gray matter of sleep. ‘What are you doing?’ His sister’s frantic voice lingered in his ears.
He shook his head. ‘Hi, sis. What’s up?’
‘What’s with the gun?’ She kept her distance from both him and the gun.
‘Jeff left it here,’ he lied.
‘Jeff? Why did he leave a gun here? What were you doing?’
‘Sleeping. I just woke up.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Sam. Don’t lie. Don’t be like dad. Let me help. Let me help you. Why is this gun here?’ she yelled.
‘You want to know?’ he yelled back. ‘Do you?’ He grabbed the gun with his right hand and put his left index finger on the trigger. He leaned the gun back until the barrel was under his chin. ‘I don’t care anymore. What’s the point? I’m tired. I’m young. I’m stupid. Things aren’t fair. What’s the point? Really.’
His sudden movement paralyzed her. She simply watched; there were no words.
The moment passed. He loosened his grip with his right hand and let the barrel fall forward. His left index finger flinched. There was a shot.
He heard a voice, ‘Even kill sssomeone…’ The hissing laughter lingered for what seemed an eternity.
He stared down the barrel wanting to feel happy or angry or at least impressed by the ingenuity that created such a weapon. His mind wandered to stories of wrist slitting and self-hanging. He admired those who could take their lives in such a noble way. But he couldn’t do it. He needed this gun.
A southpaw, he brought his left up to the gun and moved the now warm metal up to just below his chin. He formed an ‘o’ with his lips and stuck the gun in like a popsicle. The barrel struck his teeth causing him to flinch; the gun fell from his mouth onto his left arm and then onto the floor with a thud. A shiver ran down his spine. He spit onto the throw rug, trying to extract the metallic taste. For an instant, he had the urge to flee, if only because the metal on his teeth made him remember the multiple fillings he had endured.
He rolled over on the couch and reached for the gun; it was just out of his reach. ‘Shit,’ he said aloud as he rolled onto his back. His eyes closed; the smell of something rotten filled his nostrils.
He found himself in a dirt pit with sides as high as cliffs. Above him men and animals leapt across the chasm. He grasped a root that stuck out of the wall of dirt and yanked it, only to find that the tree to which it had been connected had died long ago. A yelp came from above; one of the animals hadn’t made the leap. Down it came tumbling against rock and dirt. ‘Nothing can survive that fall,’ he thought to himself. He pressed himself against the side hoping to avoid both the falling debris and the animal itself. He expected a thud, but heard instead an eloquent thump. He opened his eyes, and there before him stood a King Cobra, both beautiful and terrible. Fear washed over him. Not this way, he thought. Not by a snake in a pit. The snake smiled at him, his teeth a bright white with fangs longer than the mouth should be able to contain. Except it was a human smile. He looked into its eyes and saw not the eyes of a serpent but of a man, a pensive man who was considering his options for escape.
‘If we work together, we can essscape,’ the cobra lisped between his giant teeth.
He stared at the teeth and considered whether he should respond.
‘I will not bite you; I am not hungry,’ the snake admitted in an even tone. ‘If you wait, however, you will be consssumed.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, almost willing not to be scared.
‘I ate a man before I fell into this pit. I am no longer hungry.’
‘Oh.’
‘Shall we essscape?’ The snake moved its head toward him.
Suddenly, he felt no fear for the cobra but for what existed outside the pit. ‘I don’t know if I want to.’
‘You would rather remain here with me then? We can wait. They will sssave me; I am rare. You are not.’
He felt indignation at the snake’s claim. ‘I’m a man. They would save me.’
‘You are worthlessssss,’ the cobra spat.
‘And you are a killer. They will kill you.’
‘Yesss. If I kill too many men. But I will not. I will kill enough to sssate my thirssst. And no one will know the differenssse.’
‘They will know if you eat me.’
‘They will think it ssself defenssse,’ the snake slurred.
He considered the snake’s stance for a moment and realized he had no defense. ‘And if I do want to escape?’ he inquired. ‘What makes me think I can believe that you would be true to your word?’
‘I have not given my word, my friend. You have little choissse in the matter.’
‘There’s always a choice.’
‘Yesss, between the frying pan and the fire. Which will it be?’
He considered his position. ‘I’d rather neither if I have the choice.’
Something akin to a laugh escaped from behind the snake’s forked tongue. ‘But you don’t.’
‘If I were to agree, what must I do?’
‘Trussst me.’ The snake smiled.
‘Fine. What do I need to do?’
‘You mussst kill a man.’
‘I am a pacifist.’
The snake laughed again. ‘You are a liar.’
‘I am not. I’ve never hurt anyone. I’ve never so much as got into a fight.’
‘You’ve never had the desssire to hurt anyone? Ever?’ the snake asked mockingly. ‘I think you have.’ The words lingered in the pit; they caused a recurring echo that grew louder in his ears.
‘Stop! Stop, please! I’ll do whatever you want.’
‘Even kill sssomeone?’
‘Yes, if I must,’ he whimpered.
‘You mussst.’
A stone hurtled down and struck the dirt beside him. Another came soon after. ‘What’s going on?’ he questioned the snake.
‘It’sss your opportunity. Take it while you can.’ The snake spoke while trying to avoid the falling rocks.
‘What do you mean?’
The snake looked up. And suddenly a rope descended with a single man attached to its end. The man immediately saw the snake but did not see the other inhabitant of the pit. He struck at the snake with some kind of tool meant to paralyze it.
He knew it was his chance. In an instant the tool struck the snake leaving it unconscious. The snake tamer extracted a burlap bag and stuffed the snake inside. Still, he did not see the other man in the pit. He was about to give a tug when the other man revealed himself.
‘Please help me. I need to get out of this pit,’ were the first words from his mouth.
Startled, the man wielded the snake paralyzer and struck at the other man, who barely avoided the strike. He then grabbed the rope and attempted to tug. Meanwhile, the trapped man leapt from the ground and tackled the snake charmer.
‘Look,’ he said,’ I just want to get out of here.’
The snake charmer elbowed the trapped man squarely in the jaw dislodging him for a moment. He yanked the rope with his next moment and waited impatiently for the rope to ascend. But the trapped man was on him again, pulling at his clothing and hair.
‘You have to help me,’ he screamed. ‘You can’t leave me down here.’
The snake charmer pulled a small knife from his belt and swiped cutting open the trapped man’s leg. Blood gushed from the wound. But the adrenaline rush kept the trapped man focused on his goal. He grabbed for the snake charmer’s hand with his left hand and punched him in the mouth with his right. The snake charmer dropped the knife. The trapped man snatched the knife and in one moment stabbed at the snake charmer’s abdomen. It was a fatal strike. The snake charmer struggled with what little strength he had but it was not enough. The trapped man extracted the knife and cut the rope. He then grabbed the bag with the snake and pulled hard on the rope. In an instant, he was ascending from the pit.
While ascending, the snake somehow slithered from the bag onto his arm and wrapped itself securely around his midsection. ‘Are you ready?’ asked the snake.
At the moment he looked down, the snake buried its fangs into his stomach. The venom spread almost instantly throughout his body. He felt the life drain from the body he had inhabited. Except, he didn’t feel as though he was dying. Of course, he had never actually died – or at least he had never recalled dying in the past – so he couldn’t be certain that this wasn’t dying. But something in his consciousness told him that he wasn’t.
‘How do you like thisss essscape?’ he heard the snake’s voice say.
He opened his eyes and immediately noticed a change. ‘I’m a snake,’ he thought to himself.
‘But you aren’t, my friend. I am the ssssnake. You are my unfortunate guesssst.’ The slurring wracked his mind. ‘I look forward to your sssstay…’
His eyes opened. The sweat glistened on his brow. He listened to his breath. In and out. In and out. In and out. As he breathed, the memory of his dream faded. There was dirt. And falling stones. No way out. Nothing he could do. And there was someone. Or something. There was fear. He breathed. In and out. He tried to remember. The memory teetered on the edge of an abyss. He closed his eyes again and focused. He felt himself losing consciousness; he had never been able to revisit a dream. But this one was important. He knew it. He had to go back. He felt the weightlessness of sleep. ‘Ssssam…’
‘Sam!’ The exclamation yanked him from the gray matter of sleep. ‘What are you doing?’ His sister’s frantic voice lingered in his ears.
He shook his head. ‘Hi, sis. What’s up?’
‘What’s with the gun?’ She kept her distance from both him and the gun.
‘Jeff left it here,’ he lied.
‘Jeff? Why did he leave a gun here? What were you doing?’
‘Sleeping. I just woke up.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Sam. Don’t lie. Don’t be like dad. Let me help. Let me help you. Why is this gun here?’ she yelled.
‘You want to know?’ he yelled back. ‘Do you?’ He grabbed the gun with his right hand and put his left index finger on the trigger. He leaned the gun back until the barrel was under his chin. ‘I don’t care anymore. What’s the point? I’m tired. I’m young. I’m stupid. Things aren’t fair. What’s the point? Really.’
His sudden movement paralyzed her. She simply watched; there were no words.
The moment passed. He loosened his grip with his right hand and let the barrel fall forward. His left index finger flinched. There was a shot.
He heard a voice, ‘Even kill sssomeone…’ The hissing laughter lingered for what seemed an eternity.
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