Magic (Part 32)

It started with a decision in the spring of 1990. He asked her if their first date should be an afternoon at the Chicago Art Institute or a doubleheader at Wrigley Field.

"How is that even a call?" she replied.

The sun gleamed, the grass glowed underneath the ballplayers, and the magical afternoon was made more so because he thought it was probably their last date as well; neither was from Chicago. 

He was wrong. Both traveled enough to occasionally gain discounted tickets, and the 1,000 miles between Minneapolis and Philadelphia weren't as isolating as they both thought they would be. Or, at least not initially.

Two years later, it was. So, with $1,000 shoved into his pocket and all his worldly possessions crammed in an '84 Honda Prelude, he moved to Philadelphia to court her. The courtship was fun, but not especially easy. First, he had to find work during a recession. Then, she was assigned to a project out of town. And when the business world stopped conspiring to keep them apart, the tougher questions began.

"Will he ever marry me? What's he waiting for?" and "Is she really the one? How do I know?" The questions were more destructive than geographic distance ever had a chance to be.

On a summer trip out west, his questions were answered in the Black Hills. And on August 13th, when they were supposed to go to a Phillies game, he showed up with flowers, acted all goofy and suggested they go for a walk. And she knew her questions were about to be answered, too.

Unaccustomed to being nervous, his proposal was awkward but genuine, and the response was delayed but jubilant. Standing together in the park, their future felt too large. Neither knew what to do, where to go, who to see.

"So, do you still want to go to the Phillies game?" he asked.

"How is that even a call?"

It wasn't a call, because the one place in Philadelphia where they both knew there was some magic that year was at The Vet. The '93 Phils, led by blue-collar rejects like John Kruk, "Dutch" Daulton, "Nails" Dykstra, and closer Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams, had not just finagled 1st place in the NL East, but seized it with force and fury. They'd won games at Veterans Stadium in every conceivable manner, including one in which Williams got the winning hit in the bottom of the 10th - at 4:30 AM. Tonight, they were playing the hated Mets, and it seemed like as good a place as any to look for magic.

The electricity they felt made the game a secondary concern. She'll readily admit that she spent most of the game looking at the back of her hand. But the game slowly became the focal point, when the Phillies lost their early lead in the top of the eighth. They scratched in a run in the bottom half, but were still down 5-4 heading into the bottom of the ninth.

But there was a reason this hard-nosed city loved this team. They used a crucial error by the Mets to score one run, and loaded the bases with two outs. Kim Batiste, a light-hitting 25-year-old utility infielder who seemed to have a special gift for striking out, came to the plate, and.......

Grand Slam.

Pandemonium.

Magic.

Earlier this year, they won baseball tickets that are a baseball fan’s dream. They just had to pick a date.

"How is that even a call?"

So last night, those same stupid kids went to a baseball game, looking for magic, just like they have every August 13th for 32 years. It wasn’t hard to find. (Somehow, it still never is.) 

Yes, they had the magical seats. They also watched a major-league debut by a youngster who is experiencing his own magical year. They held hands. But this time, they went with their daughter and her fiancé, who are planning their own union, their own journey. 

A father and mother always hope for a better life for their children, so of course we do, too. But honestly, I think we’ll be happy if they have a life even half as happy, so long as they still find…

Magic.