I have to admit, I had a bit of tears in my eyes as I walked through the gates and saw the green field and crowds? Why? Because even though I've loved baseball since I was a little kid, I have never been to a major league baseball game in all of my fifty-one years.
My dad and grandpa loved baseball. I remember listening to the Cubs games on the radio as we did errands about town. I also remember being a bit put out when the games on TV would air instead of the Mickey Mouse Club too! But other than that minor irritant, I loved watching baseball. Ernie Banks and Willie Mays were my heroes. One day I even skipped home from school after hearing that Ernie Banks hit another home run, and completely forgot my Girl Scout meeting! And even though everyone around me was a Cubs fan, my second favorite team as a kid was the Giants. So going to a Giants game was so special, even more than my daughter imagined. I was pretty good at hiding my love of the game because it wasn't something Hubby has been interested in.
So last night was wonderful! We drove to San Francisco and got all bundled up. I was so excited, it took me a little bit to pay attention to the game. The whole atmosphere was so fun and festive. And even though our seats were the nosebleeds, it actually was even better because we had a great view of the bay and were protected from the cool wind by the overhang. It was a night I won't ever forget!
There were some rough patches, and they were because of Mr. I. The crowds, the noise, and the excitement were overwhelming to his sensory system. He complained of being thirsty, but didn't like the hot chocolate I gave him. I wasn't going to get him anything cold to drink because I was sure he would start with the complaining about being cold, which he did anyway. He wanted to leave after the third inning, and didn't want his picture taken. Fortunately, Microbio Daughter realizes that he does this when he is over excited and didn't seem to distressed about his behavior.
But an even bigger cause of Mr. I's distress was fear. It's sad to think, but he actually though he'd die while we went to the baseball game. He talked about drive by shootings and kidnappings as we came and when we walked back to the car. He was sure a homeless person sleeping next to the sidewalk was going to jump up and grab him. He clutched my arm as we walked through the crowds. And he told me that even though he knows where he was going after he died, he didn't want to die before I did. No amount of assurances on my part about the security guards, the safety in being with a lot of other families going to the game, or reminding him of God's protection would calm his fears. I just don't know how to help him heal. The wounds from the trauma when he was under three years old are so deep. It's especially hard because the fears weren't stored in the verbal part of his brain, but the emotional. That, and FASD, has caused some of the neural pathways to get all mixed up, and he thinks he's bored or hungry when he really is overwhelmed. Yes, he asked for food, even though he ate an In and Out double cheeseburger and fries in the car on the way to the game. There was no way that he could be hungry, but he thought he'd die of hunger if I didn't give him food right away.
But we endured his complaints and had a good time anyway. Mr. I did calm down by the seventh inning, and had a good time listening to a very vocal fan in front of us. And despite having to deal with Mr. I's stuff, I had a great time at the game! Go Giants!