Sunday, February 17, 2013

I got 99 posts, but this ain't one

No, this ain't.
This is officially my 100th blog post.
I feel like there should be some fanfare. Or fireworks.

I've been procrastinating this post for some time now. Like, maybe 6 months.

Or so.

I wanted it to be special.

Some sort of brilliant, poetic, witty, funny, charm filled treatise on my life as told through the most amazing, magnificent event in my life.
But, it became a problem.
What event to use? Was it charming enough? Magnificent enough?

Which brings me to:

Blog Post 99.5: The Unassisted Triple Play

For those non-baseball fans, an unassisted triple play is when a defensive player gets all three outs in an inning all by himself. It has happened 15 times in baseball history. It's super rare.

Mike and I were at the last one that happened, August 23, 3009, Phillies vs. Mets.
And, the thing is, I barely remember it.

A friend posted a link to the game, way back in the fall, on Facebook. And I had actually had to think about it. I sort of remember it. I had a conversation with him about it, and he couldn't believe that I couldn't really remember it.

Mike and I had been looking for treats to bring home to the kids, when we heard the crowd. I think the Mets were trying to rally a come back. Mike says we watched it on the televisions in the store, but I just don't really remember. I do sort of remember the hush of the crowd after. (It just had to be against the Phillies)

It just wasn't the best game that I had ever been too.

The best game was the second to last game ever played at Shea. Johan Santana was pitching. The Mets had to win that game, and the next one, and a couple other teams had to lose for the Mets to make it into the playoffs. Our seats were so high up, I would get dizzy every time I stood. But, I was on my feet cheering and jumping up and down every out of those last couple innings. Johan pitched the whole game and the Mets won.

The next day they lost, imploded really.

That game was insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't the last game at Shea. Nothing historically exciting happened. Johan pitched all nine innings, but that happens a couple times usually through out a season.

And, it was awesome.

Mike and I hugged the last out of the ninth inning. We high-fived our neighbors. I remember what the people around us looked like, and the sounds of the crowd, Mike's expression that last out.

In my quest to find the perfect moment, I missed all the others that came in between.
The laughs and the smiles, as well as the tears. The ups and downs that have made up these past 6 months.
Like David's new found love of sharks, and Calvin and Hobbes. Kate's tantrums and need to perform.

These small things, these are the ones I remember.
And will remember.

So, my hundredth post came without fanfare.
Or fireworks.
Or grand, magnificent moments.

But, maybe life, life means a little bit more.

This post is dedicated to my loyal following (seriously, how cool is it that I have a loyal following), especially you Joanie.


  1. Life is more little moments than big ones, it seems to me.

    And ROCK ON, David, with the Calvin and Hobbes. I knew he had good taste.

  2. Me too.

    He bring Calvin and Hobbes books with him on the bus to read. Or he'll escape to his room to read for a bit. It's pretty awesome.