What are the odds?

Tom and I are partial-season ticket holders for the Nationals. Last night’s game against the Phillies is one of the games in our package, but Tom was unable to go. A friend of mine had planned to go with me, but at the last minute, we decided that we didn’t feel like sitting out in the rain all night. A coworker of mine, Tony, said that he and his roommate Trey would like to go and brave the rain, so gave them our tickets, happy that they weren’t going to waste. We have excellent seats, after all.

Trey arrived at our office shortly before it was time to leave, and after some banter about the Virginia Tech hat he was wearing, I lent him my Nats cap for the game. The boys happily set out for the game while my friend and I headed to Luna in Shirlington for some comfort food.

When I arrived at the office this morning, as I passed Tony’s desk, he stopped me to tell me a story.

Tony had agreed to take the tickets and go to the game with Trey knowing that Trey didn’t really have any money to buy baseball tickets, but had told Trey he’d pay for them. The face value of the tickets was a little higher than Tony would ordinarily pay for on the spur of the moment, and even though I didn’t really expect to be paid for them, the guys still felt like they ought to do something.

When they got to the seats at the park, Trey said, “I know! I’ll catch a foul ball for Tiff!”

Right Trey, that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Right.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs
But when Trey gets an idea, he doesn’t let it go, no matter how unlikely, and he and Tony spent the whole game talking about how it would work- it would have to be a left-handed batter, because a righty wouldn’t hit it to our section. Trey pulled out his cell phone to do the math to figure out how long it would take him to hit the ground if he fell over the railing from the front of the purple seats.

It was at this point that I interrupted Tony’s story- “This story doesn’t end with Trey in the hospital with a skull fracture, right?” “No, just wait for it…”

So at the top of the ninth, with the Nats down 5-1 to the Phillies and the weather still gross, Tony asked Trey if he wanted to leave. Trey wanted to stay, because he hadn’t caught my foul ball yet.

Suddenly the batter cracks one right toward section 426. Tony and Trey’s eyes got wide, and they took off their caps. Trey reached out with the cap… and CAUGHT the ball. In the hat I had lent him.

The hat and the ball were on my desk this morning with a note thanking me for the tickets.


This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Tiffany Baxendell Bridge is an Internet enthusiast and an incurable smartass. When not heckling the neighborhood political scene on Twitter, she can be found goofing off with her ukulele, Bollywood dancing, or obsessing about cult TV. She is That Woman With the Baby In the Bar.

Tiffany lives in Brookland with her husband Tom, son Charlie, and two high-maintenance cats. Read why Tiffany loves DC.

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