Touch the Grass

Like any well intentioned, yet occasionally misguided mother, my only desire was to manufacture a memory for the teenager. Now, it’s true, had the incident actually come to fruition I would have had some regrets. At the time however, my only concern was for the teenager.

Really.


As we arrived early to the major league baseball stadium our backs were warmed by the midday sun. Our noses were awakened by the smell of those pungent garlic fries. And our eyes were widened by the sight of the great, green, pristine grass below. We blindly rushed, guided by a sea of experienced ball capped young fans, down to the seats along the first base line. The team was stretching, playing catch and taking batting practice. Not being a family prone to being star struck, we found ourselves to be quite unexpectedly so. They were very close, those players on TV, that the teenager yells at so intently. They were alive and real.


We could have touched them.

Except, that would have been frowned upon, I’m sure.


We had been to the major league baseball stadium last season, on “Kids Run the Bases Day”. The field was lined with security guards who periodically, and most authoritatively, yelled out, “Don’t touch the grass!” The boy was on crutches and evoked much sympathy as he slowly attempted his round of the bags. The teenager, who also ran the bases, apparently did so with a longing we would hear about the entire off season.

“I really wish I had touched the grass.” she would randomly yell out in conversation.


On that sunny day this year, as we approached the field along that first base line, the teenager renewed her green grass desire. “I really, really want to touch the grass.”

Inexperienced in any sort of fan behavior, we watched as those around us confidently called out the players’ names. We had no collector pins on our hats. We possessed no Sharpie pen. We had not purchased an 8 x 10 glossy photo. And yet, armed with only the boy’s mitt and the teenager’s private baseball stats notebook, somehow, we looked as if we fit in. Because of course, we too, were star struck.

As we watched the players practice, the teenager muttered to me yet again, “I really want to touch the grass.”

Finally, the superstar 3rd baseman approached the sidelines. I slapped the boy on the back much harder than I had intended to and whispered loudly into his ear. “I want you to shove your mitt out there near him, and don’t you take it back until he signs it.” The boy looked up at me and seemed to question my aggressive suggestion. I glared at him with my best, “I said DO IT!!!” glare. “

I turned to the teenager and said, “I want you to shove your notebook out there near him and don’t you take it back until he signs it.” The teenager gazed right past my face and whispered to me, “Wow…he is so much better looking in person. And look, he gets to touch the grass. I really want to touch the grass.”

The security guard shadowing the 3rd baseman, as he signed autographs, was a delicate man who didn’t come close to filling out his official windbreaker. The man was slightly taller, by a few inches, than my stretched out height of 5 feet. I knew, without a doubt, however, that I weighed more than him. The teenager tugged on my sleeve and whined, again, in my ear, “Maaawwwwmmmm…..I really, really want to touch that grass!” I turned from my grass whining child back to the security guard and saw that he was picking the dirt out from underneath his fingernails.


And then it hit me.

I could take him.

The teenager would touch that grass.


I leaned into the teenager and whispered my plan. “Why don’t you just jump that wall real quick, run out and touch the grass, and then run back.”

The teenager’s eyes widened to their limit. “Mother! The security guard is RIGHT. THERE. HEL-LO!”

“Yeah, yeah…I’ve already thought about that. “ I whispered back. “I think I can take him. Besides, really, what’s the worst thing that will happen? “



When we left that baseball game that afternoon the boy was holding his mitt, newly signed by the superstar 3rd baseman. The shadowing security guard had taken off his too big windbreaker to reveal that he was composed entirely of hardened muscle fibers. And the teenager, having chastised me for my “stupid suggestion” that she jump the wall, left that game, again, without having touched the grass.


A few days later we watched on TV as a Philadelphia Phillies fan ran out on the field and was eventually tased. The teenager turned to me and said, “See mom! THAT’S the worst thing that could happen when you jump the wall.”

And then she longingly added, “But at least he got to touch the grass….”



Check This Out!


If you like dogs then you must watch this movie. If you don’t like dogs then you should still watch this movie. If you like heartwarming, heartbreaking, fantastic, based on a true story movies that you might want to have some Kleenex handy for, then you too should watch this movie.

The Slightly Exaggerated family just finished watching the wonderful movie, Hachiko: A Dog’s Story and recommend it wholeheartedly. Ok…perhaps…the most hardened and disillusioned of you will find it a bit sappy. But that is all the more reason for you to watch it as well.

A Doggie Took Me Down

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I was attacked by a dog the other day. It was a frightening experience. It happened so fast there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was running in my neighborhood when I saw a woman with two young children approaching. She was focused on the youngest child who was throwing a tantrum on the sidewalk. The other child, a boy around 6 years old, had a dog on a leash. As they approached, I slowed down and offered my hand for the dog to smell. The dog was extremely excited to see me, almost agitated. I could sense that it was a friendly excitement. It soon became apparent, however, that the dog was not well trained and the boy was not at all capable of controlling it. The overzealous dog jumped up and into me. He was not purposefully trying to hurt me, yet his front paws repeatedly pawed my legs. One paw caught the cord of my MP3 player and ripped the ear buds right out of my ears. Soon the cord was also ripped right out of the player. I was completely taken aback. I began to feel overwhelmed. The dog then pawed the MP3 player right out of the carrying case that was in my hand. I reached down to try and pick up my things. In his continued excitement to say hello the dog clawed a large scratch down my arm. I stood up and his front paws were right back on the front of my thighs. It was almost if he was trying to climb me. I felt sharp pain in my thighs. His very long and very sharp claws had gone right through my pants and punctured my legs twice. I could feel the blood running down my leg. About this time the mother had the youngest child under control and looked up to see the older boy struggling. She instructed the boy to “get moving” so they wouldn’t be late for school. She looked at me, apparently oblivious to the “friendly”, aggressive greeting her out of control dog had just presented me with and said, “I’m so sorry if he got in your way.” And then they moved on.

I put my MP3 player back together. Despite being injured and a bit shaken, I decided to finish my run. When I got home I inspected the puncture wounds on my leg. As I went to get the first aid kit I vowed that if I ever saw that little white cockapoo dog ever again, I was going to cross the street.






Check This Out!
I am having book withdrawal today after finishing The Caliph's House, by Tahir Shah last night. In this wild, utterly astounding and truly unusual travel/adventure book, Shah moves his young family from London to Casablanca, Morocco. This book was one of Time magazine's 10 Best Books of 2006 and it deserves it. Shah is my new favorite author. I've read 4 of his books so far. It won't be the last time you hear me sing his praises. www.tahirshah.com