(Originally an editorial in Teeswater.ca circa 2014)
Are you a half full or half empty glass kind of person?
I have always thought of myself in the former group, but last week I came close to joining the other side.
Once a year JG, my wife and I take part in a community living trip to Toronto to see the Blue Jays at Roger’s Centre. It is a grand trip, two hours on the bus (one of Sam’s favourite pastimes), three hours at the stadium and two hours home again, with a stop at Wendy’s of course! And the seats, courtesy of the Blue Jays, are always awesome – this year about six rows up from field level just on the outfield side of third base. You could almost reach out and touch Josh Donaldson!
We settled into our seats, backpack rummaged through for my trusty ball mitt (just in case!), secret stash of mini muffins handy. And what a buzz in the stands! The Blue Jays were on a roll – 10 straight wins and a half game up on the dreaded Yankees for first place in the AL East! Today’s opponent the lowly Oakland A’s would not be much of a problem for OUR Jays!
It was the third inning, Danny Valencia (recently a Blue Jay) at bat. First pitch a liner screamed into the stands just on the outfield side of third base. Instinctively I stuck up my glove – WHACK – OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW – the ball slammed into the palm of my mitt a good inch from the pocket. I grimaced, and to add insult to injury the ball popped slowly out of my mitt and rolled under the feet of the people sitting next to us. Like a flash the lady scooped up the ball.
“Give it back!”, everyone yelled at her, pointing to me, “Give him the ball!”.
“Ha!” her husband snorted, taking the ball and rolling it over and over in his hands, “THIS is a Major League baseball!”.
After a few minutes the man handed the ball to his daughter, who just happened to be sitting next to my wife. With a sneering look on her face the young ‘dear’ turned to my wife and said “You really NEED to take a picture of me and MY baseball!”.
My wife bit her lip and didn’t respond, though I can well imagine what she would have liked to have said.
Meanwhile I sat nursing my hand, a large black bruise quickly forming, and looked ahead, feeling, well, a little bit sorry for myself, and not quite as positive about humanity as I usually am.
For the remainder of the game the young girl turned the ball over in her hand or held it up to examine it in the sunlight, making sure to keep it well protected.
As it turned out the couple and their child were on our bus for the return journey home. To the constant grumbles and remonstrations to return the ball, the man regaled us with how he had caught the ball (somehow omitting the fact that it was a 3 foot dribbler to his wife) while the daughter smirked.
I just shrugged and wondered whether I would even take my mitt to next year’s game. The glass was rapidly draining to a quarter full.
As we were getting off the bus, a young gentleman who had been sitting in front of me at the stadium touched my arm and motioned me to the side.
“Thank you!” he said, “I never had a chance to say thanks at the stadium.”
I must have look puzzled because he continued.
“When that ball came flying into the stands I was trying to unstick a zipper, and all I could think was it was going to hit me right between the eyes! And then out of nowhere your mitt appeared and you caught the ball! So thank YOU!”. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up.
Are you a half full or half empty glass kind of person? Sometimes it is easy to join the half empty crowd, but when you look at the big picture it becomes sooo much easier to be a half full type.
Or maybe even three quarters full…
Cheers!
Mark