home run

night game

So there she was, preparing to be settled in between two strangers— or that's what she told herself, since she showed up to the park twenty minutes before the gates even opened. The cab dropped her off in the front and she spied iconic will call windows before heading towards them. After a brief and uncomfortable conversation with the lady inside, she was directed towards a special window further down. Kate had mentioned this to her, but she refused to believe it.

Ages ago, Kate had a very grateful customer that left her tickets to a Cubs game and she took both Michael and Leigh. She had told Leigh that she would need to go to the VIP Will Call window to pick them up but Leigh tried to blend in as much as possible and line up for the regular windows.

But she found herself moving over to the empty window, the word 'VIP' hanging above it like a giant neon sign. She felt really small but the man behind the counter was smiling at her brightly, "Name?" He asked.

"Leigh," She paused, feeling like an idiot and adding, "Mahoney, sorry."

"Can I see your ID?" He spoke and his friendly face never wavered, even though she felt like she would burst into flame at any time from the embarrassment. She opened up her wallet and pulled out her driver's license, sliding it beneath the glass. The man looked at it for a second, slid it back through and turned to the wall of little wooden boxes next to him. She tucked her ID away as he smiled at her and pushed a branded envelope through to her.

"Enjoy the game!" He called and she thanked him, clutching the ticket and walking away. She spared a glance at it to see which gate she would have to enter at but then stared across the street where vendors were set up, peddling their gear. She tried to ground herself— she had never found herself in a position like that before and it scared Leigh how insignificant she felt now, in the shadow of Wrigley Field on game day. She had spent the past couple days trading flirty text messages with the first baseman and it felt surreal. He was too important— too famous— too talented to care about Leigh.

"Shut up," She told herself aloud, grateful that her small mumble was lost in the chatter of the crowd, "You're fucking amazing."

Leigh steeled herself, feeling the forced confidence turn into impulse as she crossed the street and made a quick purchase and changing into it before going to Gate F.

She waited in line for the gates to open and gave herself another pep talk, this time mentally. She had originally arrived in just a Cubs shirt, a pair of shorts, and a Cubs baseball cap that had seen better days, but after her last-second purchase, the shirt was tucked inside her purse next to game day scorecard. Instead, Leigh was wearing a brand new Rizzo shirt, the white 44 and 'RIZZO' bright against the Cubbie blue. It felt good, it was a comfortable shirt— a little overpriced— but it gave her the extra sway to her step that she needed.

Finally, the gates opened and her ticket was scanned by another incredibly friendly man, his white mustache unable to contain the large smile he had while scanning tickets and telling people to enjoy the game.

The sun was shining on section 31 when she found her seat, and for once, she didn't hate the heat. She took a quick glance to where she had sat the last couple of times she had come here, the seats much further back, and to where she sat with Kate and Michael for the only other VIP Will Call tickets she had. That section was on the third baseline and further back than the seat she sat in.

The grass was so vibrantly green Leigh had to slip down her shades as she took in the sights and the smells of the ballpark. Another look was over at the press pit she had been in when she was oh-so-fatefully tackled. Her seats now were much better, since the only thing she had to focus on was the game with her own eyes- not a specific player or the crowd through a lens. She sighed happily, taking out the scorecard and beginning to mark down the batting order for each team, copying down the details from the right field scoreboard.