Since I was in California for a family wedding, seeing a Baseball game was not originally in the plans. With multiple events spread all over Southern California, I was sure I wouldn’t have any time to myself.
In the end, on the last evening of our trip, my mother and I found that we had nothing to do when we got back at our hotel in Santa Ana. I offered to take her for dinner but she knew where my heart was, and told me to “go see a Baseball game, I know it will make you happy”. And with as little Jewish guilt as she could muster said it was okay, she would sit all by herself and have dinner. I was impressed by that little lady.
I hopped in the car, sped along the highway and bought a ticket at the gate. The prices were a bit higher than expected but I scored myself a quality seat, even if it was over the visitor’s dugout. It was nice to see both of these teams play, as I don’t think I had ever seen either of them live. The only disappointing news was that both Trout and Pujols were out of the lineup. With a weakened lineup, the Angels were destined to lose, and they did.
Observation #1: There was a completely deranged Indians fan about 10 seats away who was screaming at the top of her lungs “LET’S GO TRIBE!”. I have no clue how she managed to keep it up at that volume for 9 innings. It was clear some people just wanted her to zip it.
Observation #2: Within minutes of sitting down in my seat, I heard something I was NOT expecting. I turned around and said to the person behind me “Québecois?”, and introduced myself to him in French. He was now living in SoCal and was there with his American girlfriend and his parents who were in from Laval. I think we were all shocked to run into someone from home, and to be sitting at a baseball game in Anaheim, speaking French.
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