candlesticks always make a nice gift

You know that feeling when you lose your balance a little and shit suddenly gets real as you struggle to regain it? How you swear silently loudly and think about how stupid you must look trying not to go from vertical to horizontal? You give this goal your full attention, though, except for the fleeting thought about how embarrassing it would be to actually fall. Even toddlers are embarrassed when they fall, and you, sir, are no toddler.

Picture this: lovely family day at the ballpark on father’s day, afternoon game following a sunny westy tailgate. Our seats are upper infield, right behind home plate but way up towards the front of the uppers. It’s not a full house, so we move around a bit and take several sojourns for food and bevs. The game is tied going into the 8th, the kids are engaged and asking questions about play and it’s really pretty close to perfect.

I had one of those Dad-inspired “isn’t this great?” moments at this point in the game, and I turned on my phone to snap a photo of the back of my kids’ heads framed by the glory of the field. My girl had a padre visor on her head and the logo looked cool, and they were talking to each other and there were men on base. It would have been a great photo. Then we all heard the crack.

The kids were all “huh?” but Bill and I were immediately on our feet, watching that sucker sail over the left field fence and score 3 for the pads, then we erupted into celebration with every other home team fan in attendance. My celebration involved jumping up and down, and whooping. That’s a legit response. Bill’s celebration, while also legit, was a bit more… how shall I put it… spastic demented assaulting….. exuberant. He went with high fives, and after giving me one he apparently intended to lean over and across my designated jumping/whooping area to offer high fives to the children.

This did not go as planned.

He caught me on a jump up, knocking me perilously off balance. There I was, in the dangerous teetering zone between vertical and horizontal, swearing silently loudly and thinking how embarrassing it would be to actually fall, right here in the ballpark in the middle of a million cheering fans. I had it. I really thought I had it. I got my legs back under me and just sort of needed to regroup and stop the forward momentum, and I did so just as the top of the seatbacks in front of me made contact with my unyielding shins, and I knew I was a goner.

Where is there to fall in the upper deck? Only one place to go: down. Once I crashed against the seat backs, the ample weight of my body made me top heavy and I tumbled right over the row of seats where my unsuspecting children sat. I got one hand out and I think I somehow managed to challenge the forces of gravity and propulsion, because I miraculously did not land on top of anyone. Except myself. On the cement.

Time stood still. I sensed a collective gasp. I immediately started saying “I’m okay! I’m okay!” and I sort of kneeled up for a minute to determine whether or not I was, in fact, okay. People kept asking if I was okay and I kept saying that I was okay, so I figured I must be okay.

I’m okay.

I got myself into the seat next to my girl and told her to please stop asking me if I was okay. I took some deep breaths. I was surprised to realize that I was still clutching my phone! Mad skillz. As my heart rate normalized and the world somehow continued turning despite my bewildered condition, I had only one thought in my head: “Get me the fuck out of here.” I quietly picked up my bag and hobbled down to the bathroom, stopping for a cup of ice at the concession stand.

I approached the mirror and surveyed the damage. My most pressing concern was that my face was throbbing where my sunglasses had pressed into my eye sockets, and my chin hurt. I pressed ice into those places and on my legs, shoulder, and hip where bruises were already forming, then I picked up my phone again and texted Ellie, because we had just been communicating about the awesome moment when the D’backs were having an unusually long mound meeting and my brilliant San Diegans displayed on the big screen that scene from Bull Durham when they talk about candlesticks and wedding registries. I told Ellie what had happened, and she replied with two words:

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