At the baseball game last night the guys one section over from us ridiculed the first base umpire mercilessly. He had bright, shiny, new shoes. They liked them very much. Today the umps had solid black shoes. Apparently the fans had gotten in their heads.
As the game today ran into the middle innings those same guys realized their shadows were falling on the mound, upon which they made shadow puppets for the opposing pitcher. They got in his head pretty well, too. All for not, the seventh ranked Arizona State has won two games in their weekend series against number 23 Auburn. Hardly matters. We shivered last night and enjoyed the sun and the shadows today. We’re sitting near a man who’s been buying season tickets to Arizona State baseball for 40 years. (They’ve had a great program for a lot of that time, their fans know their stuff and this particular bunch are vnice people and were complimentary of their trip to the plains.)
Today he was talking about how the college game is better than the professional game. The players don’t have to play hurt. It is a faster game. You can’t get seats like ours, about seven rows above first base, in the big leagues. I eat peanuts during the whole game and sit near people who are critical of the umpires’ shoes.
Got my bike back today. Took seven days to replace the crankset. By contrast I’ve had a radiator replaced in my car in half the time. But they apologized for the delay and thanked me for my patience. They didn’t charge me for labor on replacing a tire tube. They did charge me labor for replacing the crankset. We hadn’t discussed that.
So I think I’ll become a bike expert and learn how to fix everything myself. Because I can’t afford this business all the time.
Got my oil changed today, too. The guy asked if I wanted a new air filter. I said no. When the bill came it was about 15 bucks higher than it should have been. “You wanted the air filter, didn’t you?”
I’ll remember that, sneaky, duplicitous Express Oil Change man.
Then there was baseball and then home for steak and ironing. And then there’s tomorrow. No one’s especially looking forward to that.
(And don’t forget to spring forward.)
