A foul ball and a beach smooch

Family legend has it that way back in the 50s, my grandmother got hit by a foul ball at a White Sox game. Hard. They took her to the hospital. Turned out she was fine, and the team paid her hospital bill and gave her an autographed ball.

Well, Friday night, history came about 10 degrees from full circle. Sitting six rows up, down third base line at US Cellular, not far from where the warning track starts, a foul ball sauntered our way. I watched the ball spin toward the stands, slower than I thought it would.

The trajectory seemed to put it several rows behind us, so I just sat there, beer in left hand, my eyes on what turned out to be the prize. Suddenly, as if doing that lame wave, people near me, grdually and in a sort of order, were all standing up. Then the guy right behind me had his arms stretched up as he tried to nab the ball.

It's weird how people behave over such a souvenir. It's sort of a blur, but folks seemed to rush toward him, scrum-like. For whatever reason it popped out of his hand, and landed right in front of me, practically in my lap. On one bounce, I grabbed it off the concrete, with my right hand, beer still cluthced in in the left paw, and yelled in a gruff Chicago meets Batman voice, "I got it!"

For a moment I felt like the Hindu god, Vishnu, with extra hands and chubby limbs where they should not be without permission. Interestingly, when I claimed possession, which after all is 9/10ths of the law, the appendages disappeared. And a couple guys apologized for their role in having me lose maybe an ounce or two of beer on my short pants, and maybe for copping a feel.

A kid scampered back to his seat, and for a second I thought about giving him the ball. But these were expensive seats and I assumed the lad was from Naperville and 13or so, so no deal. The guy behind me almost lost his hat, and I offered to buy him a beer, but he said cool, but it wasn't necessary.

Like a 12 year old, I texted a couple buddies and called my niece and nephew to brag about my summer's coolest accomplishment.

We buried the ball in my friend Jamie's bag and for a good part of the game I had a case of the giggles. In the car on the way home I played with the ball as if it were my favorite Christmas present. I think when no one was looking I kissed it.

Hey, you gotta kiss something, right?

I also secretly kissed the sand, through a towel, while lounging on Michiana beach off Lake Michigan late Saturday afternoon. It was such a beautiful day - and it was such a taste of my fantasy Michigan beach house lifestyle (the place where it's always in the 80s, late summer, and I'm holding court on a pier with friends and people I love), I felt I owed the place a smooch.

Yeah, like you didn't know I was goofy - and that I am going to miss this summer.