Wild Card Game

I've been so blessed.  I've been to four games this season.

So hyped up for the Wild Card Game, Daniel trying not to jinx it, but pressing me for a , "Choose Sunday or Monday," so we could continue into the playoffs.  me wondering how on earth I'd pull off getting away from home again.

Tabby spent the night with Hazel, Grandma had Jack and Nando, and all the rest of my kids went to the high school homecoming game, allowing me time to get to Atlanta.

The game had quickly sold out, parking passes in any Braves lot gone, so we had to take MARTA - yet another adventure for me.  I was meeting Daniel and Megan at his apartment way out in Vinings.

We had great seats, but hardly any fans sat at all during this game in which three errors were committed and the most ignorant, bonehead umps I've ever seen made such terrible calls that a longtime friend from Virginia, Dottie, was texting me her outrage, not knowing I was there at Turner Field.

The fans had an absolute complete cow, beer cans and bottles hurtling down on the field, exploding hot dogs and geyser of mustard. What the heck?  Had the vendors as well started slinging condiments?  The game was delayed for quite some time to get the field cleaned up, security personnel escorted one belligerent man away from our section, while another slung his large Converse shoes on the field.

Seriously Dude?  You're gonna walk the streets of Atlanta barefooted?

The noise was deafening.  I'm hoarse from yelling too.

Chipper Jones broke his bat for his last at bat forever, and barely got his 40 year old self to first base in the ninth inning.

But thank you, Chipper Jones, for 19 marvelous years of baseball awesomeness.

When it was all over, I could only wish for a chance to restart the game and have 'em play it right.

But what a fun, fun night to be at the most amazing Turner Field.  Now that's my Magic Kingdom.