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Nothing worth stealing

If you happen to stumble across a 1994 Ford Ranger, nothing fancy about it with slight rust showing on the body and you notice that the owned left the door unlocked, don't try to break in and steal something. Chances are pretty good there is nothing worth stealing. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that it looks like a cow.  There is DEFINITELY nothing worth stealing. So then, Mr. Friday-night-post-storm-glove-box-opener, what exactly did you think you would find in my truck?? The highest valued thing in there is my change jar for parking meters and you didn't even notice that!

Well, that aside, Friday night marked a duly interesting evening for me. Katie and I were at my parents house letting the grandparents of our first child have their fill of hugs and kisses. Round about 8:30p I checked in on the first place division-clinching Reds to see that the score was tied 1-1 in the 7th inning. Our magic number was 1 and all we needed was a run in order to clinch first place in the central division and become playoff contenders. Katie's dad called and said he was up for meeting us downtown so we packed up the 5 week old and sped off to the ballpark. We parked for free (it's amazing how parking lot attendants give up on collecting money towards the end of the game) and walked up to an open gate. The security guards were rather curt in directing us towards the ticket box if we wanted to gain access to any kind of view of the field. However, it was now the top of the 9th inning and someone in the upper ups of Great American Ballpark has made a decision that tickets should no longer be sold for the game come the 9th inning. So there we were, standing outside the main gate, baby in hand, looking through the open gate at GABP hoping to catch a wave of postseason excitement.
As an act of desperation to gain access to the stadium both Katie and I asked people leaving the ballpark for their tickets. And were both surprised that they gave them over. And were both surprised to find that there is no re-entrance to the ballpark after the ticket has been scanned. And were both surprised that not even the young girl ticket taker standing by herself would let us and our baby through the gate. Katie's dad then met us at the main front entrance and made a point that the security guards 1) weren't watching, 2) couldn't tell the difference between his purchased admission ticket and our borrowed admission ticket once we were in, 3) didn't even notice when we strolled through the gate. Besides feeling a little nervous, guilty, and flustered, it was exciting to be in the stadium with seats for the 113 level. We made it into the stadium and found seats behind the 3rd base line in the handicapped section (another level of guilt ensuing) just in time to watch Matt Kemp single into right field to drive in two Dodger runs in the top of the 10th inning. As the Reds' bats remained silent in the bottom half of the inning, the excitement of the evening left almost as quickly as the disappointed fans.
But...when Isaiah grows up and asks about the year the Reds won the World Series the same year he was born we can say we were there in the stadium on Clinchmas Eve.


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