Me and Shania

 

Sean, Me, Will, Tim. (Tim photo) Most certainly the best part of the day,
and Will's sign made me happy.

I'm sure Shania Twain is a lovely woman.

She made mostly harmless country/pop in the late 90s into the early 00s and was pretty much all over the radio. It was never my taste but it was generally benign and easy to flip past.

And, yet, at 9:00 at night, after a broadcast from hell, when walking into a Wal-Mart to buy cat food, Shania Twain was exactly what I did not need to hear.

Oh, I'm not sure anything would have sufficed. I drove home in utter silence.

At one point, I just stood in the pet food aisle, staring at the Purina offerings. One bag was too far back to be reached (and, yes, I tried). I even considered just diving in for it but had a vision of my legs hanging out and unable to purge myself from this shelving system.

So I stood there. Almost helpless. Pondering how much I sucked and exactly why I did suck.

I expected to hear something on the PA system.

"Attention Wal-Mart, please ignore the space cadet-looking sucky broadcaster in the pet department."

Eventually, I picked up a large bag of food and a bag of treats (chicken and waffles for my Rascal) and paid.

I also decided I needed food -- something I should have done hours earlier. The pittance of chicken fingers I bought at the ballpark was stupid. It was nowhere near enough for me or Sean.

So I was awful. Nobody's fault but mine.

I barely talked to anyone after it was over. Thirteen games over on the homestand and if I had read some kind of terrible criticism about me, how could I argue?

Sean left and I watched him depart. It was a sad scene. I took my leave eventually and went to the land of Sam Walton.

Finally, I decided a nearby A&W would give me some chili dogs and fries. Terrible for my health but good for my soul in the moment.

I pulled into a parking lot and ate in my car before driving away. Another sad scene that would make for a bad life.

Damn. That's a movie. "Lonely loser eats chili dogs and fries in deserted shopping center parking lot. Netflix presents Amy Schumer in, 'I Suck.'"

Screw it. It was a bad day. They happen.

Sports reminds us that, unless it's fatal, you soon jump back in the batter's box.

As the fog lifts, I tell myself there were a few good calls and, at the same time, simply file the broadcast away and never discuss it again.

Tim, Ursula, and Will Parry were there today, and Will made me a sign.

Take that -- and the other good points -- from the day and move on.

Maybe Shania would like that. Maybe not.

"OK. So you got a sign."

It don't impress her much.