Sky Game

We have the sky in common, though the fans from Minnesota had forgotten it.

"This is why we have a roof," they said as the rain began.

"Nothing to get excited about," said the red-shirted usher, pockets stuffed with dollars from wiping  seats. "Just a little Pittsburgh air conditioning. Stay put, and it'll stop."

Paying customers made their way from the boxes to the mezzanine. One held up his Blackberry and said, "Torrential dowpour on its way!"

"Okay, then," said the usher, and we all sought shelter.

The wind increased. The rain fell beautifully, illuminated. The umpires stopped play, and the grounds crew spread their tarps.

Thirty minutes later, the sun shone. The tarps were pulled back. Men in tandem with push brooms moved standing water through the grass and toward hidden drains. The ushers wiped the seats, bills damp in their khakis. Baseball resumed.

The half moon rose over The City of Bridges.

No one imagined being anywhere else.

copyright 2010, J. O'Brien
all rights reserved