Sunday, September 13, 2009


What you’ve all been waiting for.

Or maybe not. I’m just hoping that I can give this story justice. I’ve been teasing it long enough that it’s probably lost it’s humor.

It’s like when the movie Home Alone came out. George’s dad had seen it and did nothing but talk about how funny the movie was, how he was laughing so hard he was crying, and that it was now his favorite movie. When George and I finally got around to seeing it several weeks after it’s release, we didn’t find it nearly as funny as the people, especially George’s dad, who had told us about it.

So, with that in mind I will tell you about when my mom got in the fight with the other fan at Jacob’s game this summer.

It was crazy hot here at the beginning of the summer. The temperatures had been at or above 100* for several days, with about 2000% humidity. It was the type of day that everyone, including myself, believes we have all the time here in south Louisiana. Having lived here now almost 6 years, I’ve learned that the summers here aren’t as bad as the rest of the world thinks.

Anyway, it was crazy hot, over 100*. We were at a 7-year old tournament in Donaldsonville, LA. This park where we were playing was horrible. There was absolutely no shade, no stands except some small stands directly behind home plate, and not much space between each field. I’m not sure if hot and cramped describe the park well enough.

Several people brought their own EZ-UP tents for shade and placed them in the designated areas to watch games. When we entered the tournament a couple of weeks before, all of the parents received a packet of instructions from the D-ville park. The instructions were all of the usual things: no profanity, yelling at the umpires was grounds for ejection, etc., etc. One unusual piece of information pertained to the use of EZ-UP tents. It stated (and I’m paraphrasing) that if you put up a tent for your game, you must remove it when your game is over or allow the next team’s fans to use it. No big deal, right?

Well, our game came up. The game before ours was an 8-year old game. There were a couple of grandparents for that team who had their tent up on their team’s side of the field, which, after their game, became our team’s side of the field. They left their tent up and in that place because their other grandson was playing our team in the next game, but they had the other dugout and didn’t want to move it to the other side. As it turned out, their 8-year old grandson had the game after ours too, so they were set for 3 games in a row. Ordinarily it wouldn’t be a big deal, except that the day before they were also there and thought the Zachary fans, very rudely, moved their chairs from under the tent to set up our own chairs. We did move their chairs, but we were under the impression that, according to the tournament rules, we could use their tent if it was left up. So you can probably tell by now that their feelings were already hurt and they were on the defensive.

When we were setting up for our game, they made it very clear that they were not moving. They had set up for the 8-y.o. game, the 7-y.o. game, and the next 8-y.o. game because their grandsons were in all those games. They were in the front of the tent very spread out and right next to the fence. We reminded them of the rule that they were supposed to share their tent with the next game if they didn’t move it. They said fine and pointed to all of the area behind them.

Here’s where it begins to get a little fuzzy.

I was the team’s scorekeeper and had to be able to see the game, so I wiggled my chair in there next to grandma. I was sort of under their tent and the one next to us straddling the poles. My mom, on the other hand, was behind them and couldn’t see anything. I scanned the fence and noticed that if the dad who was standing at the fence scooted down a little I could get my mom’s chair in right next to grandpa. He, happily, moved down and helped me get the chair in and mom sat down.

As mom was settling in, she said, in a louder than normal voice, “We could all get in under this tent if these people weren’t so hateful.”

Grandma said, “We’re not hateful, it’s our tent.”

Mom replied, “Well the tournament rules state that if you leave your tent up, the next team’s fans may use it.”

Grandpa said, “You all can go ahead and use it, but we’re not moving.”

Mom said, “Well you’re supposed to move for the next game.”

By now, the whole tent was in rapt attention to the conversation between my mom and this couple.

Grandpa’s voice getting a little louder, “We don’t have to move the tent, this next game is ours too. Our 7-y.o. grandson is playing in this game, and our 8-y.o. is playing again after this game. We came all the way from Gonzales to see our grandsons play in these games.”

Mom, getting more and more aggravated, said (something like), “Well good for you, my other grandson is playing a tournament in Gonzales right now and we’re missing that game for this one. We came all the way from Zachary for these games and I came all the way from San Antonio, Texas to see my grandsons play baseball this summer.” (Read that with all the sarcasm you can muster).

**Aside** Zachary is about 50 minutes from Donaldsonville, and Gonzales is about 20 minutes from D-ville. You can figure for yourself how far San Antonio is from D-ville. Nevermind. I’ll figure it out for you--7 hours, 49 minutes, according to the map on my iPhone. Did I tell you that I have an iPhone?

Grandpa replied, extremely rudely, “Well why don’t you just go back to San Antonio, Texas?” (Again with the sarcasm!)

Mom said, “I only get to see my grandsons play ball once a year. I don’t intend to miss their games. And as a matter of fact, why don’t you go back to Gonzales where you came from?”

All this time, mind you, I’m sitting next to grandma, and, obviously, we’re going to be sitting next to this couple the entire game! The other parents on our team were speechless as we surrounded these folks.

Thankfully, the game started and we were able to focus on the game. At some point, the daughter of the grandma and grandpa (mom to the ball-player grandsons) came over to visit her parents on the opposing side. I'm not sure how the conversation came around to this, but she reminded all of us Zachary people over there under the tent that we moved all of their chairs out and replaced them with ours. Then someone from our team reminded her of the tent rule. Oh brother, I was afraid it was about to begin again. She laughed it all off and basically counted it up to super hot weather and high tensions for the games. Of course, we all knew better.

We got them though. The Zachary 7s won the game something like 14-2. It was a 10-run mercy rule game. that I write this and read over it...I think they think we must be like the Kenner team!!!!!!!


Anonymous said...

Well, I remember it a little bit differently. For instance, when I sat down he asked me where I was from and I told him. He then proceeded to say (in a raised voice) "Well, why don't you go back to San Antonio Texas?" Thats when I lost it. Love, Mom

jana said...

I got it as closely as I could remember. If you write your account, I'll let you be a guest contributer to my blog!

Susanne said...

Awesome story!! I'm glad your mom got to see the game, anyway. :)