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Sidelines
Kalani Simpson
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A perfect night everywhere but the scoreboard
PEANUTS. Popcorn. Cracker jack.
Box bentos and chopsticks.
Garlic fries and beer.
A long line outside the stadium, stretching along the border fence of the kalakoa track. It looks impressive, this line. It feels full of buzz. All kinds of people into baseball, it seems, this night. Even the girl with red hair.
Not ehu hair, not orange hair. Dyed red, like Bozo.
(Eh, no laugh. It works for her.)
The ding-ding! ding-ding! of the new automated ticket system ding ding dings.
"Coach Kenny is the last name on that list," a small boy is told, when looking at the lobby display that contains the roster of the 1991 team.
Diamond Head in the distance. Uncle Jim and Uncle Pal in the booth. Headphones for the radio to catch Don Robbs' call.
Small kids running out with the team for the national anthem. It looks like about 100 of them. Sprinting out there with small-kid enthusiasm, crowding around their heroes for a pregame song.
Folks in old clothes, orange, the old rainbow, a lighter shade of green.
Coach Les' number on the wall.
A strikeout. A Bad News Bears bloop to short center. A pop up. Another K, and organ music, the 'Bows are at the bat.
Baseball.
I'm in my "office" in the Bob Eucker seats. Luckily, Paka has turned on the lights.
A 6-3, a 4-3, then Justin Frash, a two-out double down the line. Brandon Haislet, something evil back up the middle, brings him home, 1-nothing, and then Ewa Beach boy Chris Balatico makes a great diving catch in the outfield for SJSU. Everybody claps.
Baseball.
Bases loaded, 'Bows in a jam, and then a double play to end the inning, great escape. Mark Rodrigues, the old crafty lefty.
Later, fifth inning, the first people leaving. They have small kids, tired and happy. Satisfied, having already had a full fill of thrills.
Mark Rodrigues, cooking now.
Speaking of kids, clean up on aisle five. First time I've ever seen the grounds crew show up with a mop.
Rodrigues chased off the mound, it's tied. A botched rundown, and the 'Bows are behind.
And suddenly it's very cold and very dark and very late.
Very, very late.
In the eighth inning, the Rainbows flailing away.
Murmuring, the kids tired now. People huddling in their jackets. Cold, dark, late.
Jon Hee. He's who you want at the plate with two outs in the bottom of the ninth with a conference loss on the line.
A fly ball to center.
No joy in Mudville.
So much for a great night at the park.