You're Cordially Invited to My Mistake

 

The happy couple dance on the dugout

I went to a mascot wedding tonight.

"The first interspecies wedding," I believe it was called though my memory might be wrong.

I'm sure it was words like that.

But now, it's done, and I'm back home.

Rascal and Rosie are wedded and I got to see it.

No cake, at least not for us in the PA booth. No dancing, again, not for us. In fact, I didn't even wear a suit. What does one wear to a wedding of a raccoon and a skunk?

I gave that last question some thought before opting for a Renegades polo and shorts. After all, I wouldn't be on the field for the nuptials. I was in the booth, which I rarely move from once the game starts. I wasn't needed anywhere else. 

Plus, I was the combo platter of PA guy and booth producer again. With Mikey Clicks to my right on sounds and Anthony to my left on visuals, we need no one else.

I mean, we're a pretty effective team, especially when my guy DJ Fish is manning the field. He was a master tonight as always, and we played off each other well. We were a touch better than we were on Friday night.

Still, I goofed. I mean, I goofed a couple of times, but once I goofed big time.

There was something we weren't supposed to say. Oh, we all realize it's going to be said because old habits die hard. And I will say there has been a spirit of cooperation about it.

But, still. I hold myself to the usual high standard.

There was the game, motoring on as always. There was me, multitasking with myriad requests on the walkie-talkie that I wanted to deposit in the nearby Hudson River. I was dealing with 50/50 raffles and guest announcers (twice) and whatever else was being thrown at us.

And, what else? Oh, right, a skunk/raccoon wedding.

Anything else? Oh, yes, a baseball game (aka the reason we're all there in the first place).

And in the midst of that, I was prepared to toss things down to Fish for a segment. Except I didn't say "Fish." I said...

I can't say it. Oh, I can, but the story plays better this way.

"Z...," I said, before knowing there might be a swear jar put near me. I would immediately become the target of myriad taunts.

Embarrassed, I quickly said, "Fish," and shut up. At that point, I wanted to shrivel up and disappear.

I nearly texted GM Zach Betkowski to 1) apologize and 2) tell him I'd make the first donation to the jar, but I was too mortified. Anthony and Clicks watched me momentarily meltdown before laughing and making fun of myself.

Of all people to make the mistake.

I texted Sean in horror. He heard what I said and was completely supportive.

"Was bound to happen," he responded. "You worked with the guy for a friggin long time."

In this case, beyond what I'm writing, if you know you know. You know I let people tell their stories and we're not supposed to say more than I have here.

In fact, I've said nothing.

Except how red-faced I was.

The Renegades lost in extra innings and Sean and I treated ourselves to a couple of slices of pizza across the street. We decided we had earned it.

We have to go back again tomorrow to complete the homestand. I wasn't supposed to be the booth producer again tonight, as someone else had been assigned but called in sick. 

Clicks, Anthony, and I work pretty well as a unit. I'm sort of OK with running things again tomorrow.

"Meet the Beatles" starts my day at 9 am. on WGCH and Robcasting. Hope you join me for a more "sensitive" show.