Spectator Sport

You have to either be very foolish or very brave to ignore a heat advisory in August and venture out in the middle of the afternoon to watch a ballgame.

And since my humans have never been accused of bravery, they loaded the kids and grandpa into the car and set off in 114-degree weather to make good use of the two free tickets that the kids had earned through the summer reading program at the local library.

Mom’s gracious presence at a sporting event had more to do with maternal affection than a love for the game, and she spent her time scanning the crowd at the indoor ballpark, gawking at plunging necklines and gravity-defying boob tubes, to pay any real attention to the activities on the field.

“What happened?” she’d half-heartedly ask Anu every time the crowd leapt to its feet and cheered wildly.

Anticipating a most monotonous afternoon, mom had carted a book along to read to stay awake. Therefore, it was somewhat of a pleasant surprise when she found herself seated directly behind an amorous teenage couple who seemed most determined to score a home run before the game ended.

Flanked by the girl’s parents, a pimply-faced boy and his uninhibited date rammed their tongues down each other's throats with wanton disregard for the staid desi family seated behind them, pausing only to come up for air and to gaze fondly into each other’s eyes.

Confronted by such an unexpected exhibition of ardor, mom had no choice but to arm herself with a large order of fries and a milk shake and to sit back and enjoy the precocious performance.

For the next four hours, mom alternated her attention between the couple and the rest of the peanut-shucking crowd, stopping only to check if the free show playing right under his nose might somehow inspire dad to display some form of public affection for his own wife.

As it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Dad made no attempt to even step up to the plate.