“When’s the game on today?”
“What?! The Yankees aren’t playing today??”
“I think we’re missing the game.”
My daughter isn’t a New York Yankees fan. No way. She just likes Melky Caberra, A-Rod, Jorgie, Matsui, Wang, Jeter, Robbie Cano, the rest of the infield, the rest of the outfield, the bullpen, Joe Torre, and even the radio commentators, John and Susan…and oh, did I mention Melky Caberra? She’s enamored with the young Spanish-speaking outfielder to the extent that she croons, “Melky” in a contented sort of way whenever he comes to the plate, makes a catch, or—heaven forbid—botches a play.
Thanks to the power of XM Radio, the New York Yankees have been traveling along with us on a daily basis. And although my daughter may ask incessant questions about both the history of the team and each individual player, the rules of play and the daily game schedule, don’t mistake her for a fan. She’s not really interested.
On yesterday’s broadcast, John and Susan announced that next week is “Yankee Lunch Box Day” at the stadium.
“I want a Yankee lunch box!” came an excited squeal from the back seat. Brandon and I turned raised eyebrows in her direction, as Brad cast a quizzical look in the rearview mirror.
Eyes wide and expression sheepish, she clamped a hand across her mouth. Bottom blown out of a cover flimsier than a paper lunch sack, she’s now bordering on open fanaticism.
Which is good, since there’s a double header today, and we’re scheduled to do a fair amount of driving. We’re also due to leave the Pacific Time zone, which created a moment of confusion when we were calculating when the games would be available locally. We keep the car clock set to Eastern Time, as a loose anchor to our real lives, which is kind of nice, but it also adds an extra calculation to time related discussions.
Tossing in the element of a third time zone created temporary mental overload.
“What happens if the game begins while we’re in the Pacific time zone, and we cross over into Central time while the game is in progress?” I asked.
“They’ll just stop play and start all over again an hour later,” my husband said. His sharp wit seldom disappoints.
And neither will the Yankees. They’ll be on the field for most of the day, so no matter when we drive, my daughter will have plenty of opportunity to clap and cheer. Not that she’d really want to, of course.