The Architect by Jerome Richard

Author:Jerome Richard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: seattle, architecture
Publisher: Jerome Richard

19

"What's that you're humming?" Trathorn asked.

"Take Me Out to the Ball Game," Jones said. "That's what we're doing this afternoon."

"But I told, you I don't like baseball."

"I'm going to change your mind. I'll buy you some peanuts and Crackerjacks. Maybe a beer if you're good."

Trathorn protested that he had a book to read for college, that he was tired, that the weather was too nice to spend sitting in a stadium for nine innings. All the while, Jones was making sandwiches. Finally, Trathorn asked, "Who's playing?"

"The Mariners and the damn Yankees."

"What's wrong with the Yankees?"

"They're bad for baseball. They buy players instead of developing them and bully their way to a world series. Haven't you seen Damn Yankees?"

Trathorn shook his head.

"Then read The Devil Wears Pin Stripes."

"What are pin stripes?"

"Come on. I like to watch them warm up."

The Mariners lost 3-2, giving up two runs in the ninth inning. As Jones and Trathorn pressed their way into the crowd on their way out, Jones criticized the Mariner's strategy. "They should have let Ibanez swing away when they had a man on first in the eighth," he said. "I hate the sacrifice bunt. And I've never seen such bad umpiring. I think the plate umpire had his balls and strikes confused."

A thin young man with a snake tattoo on his arm overheard Jones and said, "Sore loser!"

"Damn Yankee fan," retorted Jones.

"Come on," Trathorn said, "it's only a game."

"Only a game? It's not only a game," Jones said through pursed lips. "That's why you don't appreciate it. There is drama. Grace. There are few things more beautiful in this world than a double play. Fate. A bad bounce can change the course of the game. The outcome is uncertain. As Yogi said, 'It ain't over 'til it's over.' It's a metaphor for life."

"And what if your team loses?"

"Then it's only a game."

They went to a bar across the street from the stadium. It was Trathorn's last week in Seattle and Jones was feeling badly that he had not spent more time with him. He stared at the boy's face across their pints of beer, seeing some of his own features, the hawked nose, the blue eyes.

"Do you think you got to know me?" he asked.

Trathorn shook his head. He wiped away a bead of beer foam from his upper lip.

"I guess I'm not easy to get to know," Jones said. "There are days when I'm not so sure I know myself."

"What should I tell my mother?"

"Tell her I never stopped loving her."

"That's a lie!"

"No, it isn't. I never lie. I am wrong sometimes, but I never lie. I love Shaina whenever I think about her."

"Which isn't often."

Jones shrugged.

They walked out of the bar and plunged into the crowd still leaving the stadium. A long line waited for a bus. Jones waved at taxis, but they were all taken. He put his arm around the boy to make sure he wouldn't lose him and they walked all the way home.

Two days later, Jones drove the boy to the airport.

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