The Best Day I’ve Had in Quite a While

Yesterday was a good enough day that it’s worth recording for posterity, so here goes.

I received my first shot of the Moderna vaccine in the morning. I stood in line for a half hour at a defunct Sam’s Club with my son Matthias (age 6) and daughter Irene (age 1.25), and it wasn’t easy because while I was holding Irene, Matthias kept pulling on her feet and taking her shoes off. Nevertheless, we made it through and no one fell apart or had a tantrum. 

After the vaccine appointment, we had twenty minutes to spare before Andre (age 3) needed to be picked up from preschool. We decided to stop by the library. My hold on the new Mike Nichols biography was ready and Matthias checked out two books of his own.

That afternoon, Irene slept at naptime (a rarity) and the boys had quiet reading and play time in their rooms, as they always do.

I made chocolate chip cookie bars and didn’t forget the vanilla this time. 

While I made dinner, Matthias was kind enough to play outside with his neighbor friend instead of making a mess and a ruckus in the house.

After dinner, Andre and I hopped in the car and drove to the city to attend a White Sox baseball game, our first time at the ballpark since 2019. Andre got to come with me because he didn’t have school the next day, while Matthias did. 

As we were walking down the stairs to our seats in the right field bleachers in the bottom of the first inning, the Sox’s rookie sensation Yermin Mercedes smashed a 3-run homer to left field. 

Later that inning, we had an up-close view when Cleveland right fielder Josh Naylor dropped a fly ball at the warning track, allowing another White Sox run to score, making it a 5-0 game.

That botched play by Naylor flipped a switch for me. I suddenly realized I was at a ballgame, live and in-person. I wasn’t watching at home on TV. So, I took advantage of the situation and let it rip.

“Pack your bags, twenty-two! You’re going to triple-A tonight!”

“Drop another one, twenty-two! Give us another drop!” 

In the third inning, Naylor did just that. He muffed a base hit and allowed a White Sox runner to advance to third. 

I was ready with another zinger. “You got a bus ticket in your locker right now, twenty-two! You’re going to Albuquerque tonight!” 

The Sox were up 8-0 before long and they began to coast through the middle innings. And I, along with a couple other guys in my section, continued to let Naylor have it. There was something uniquely satisfying about going hoarse yelling my head off (albeit through a mask) at a baseball game after having watched sports exclusively on TV since 2019. (My last live event had been a visit to the United Center to see the Bulls play the Bucks in December, 2019.) 

It felt good to be there, in person. It felt great to yell. Poor Naylor had to take the brunt of it, but he would later have a chance to exact his revenge.

In the 6th, I looked at the scoreboard and noticed Cleveland had zero hits. Then I saw that they hadn’t reached on a walk or an error, either. No baserunners at all. It was a perfect game through five innings for Sox pitcher Carlos Rodon.

Each out became a little more exciting. A buzz was in the air. No fans headed for the exits after the 7th inning stretch, even though the score was 8-0 and the temperature had dipped down to 45 degrees.

After warmups going into the bottom of the 7th, a bullpen guy for Cleveland flipped a ball into the stands and one of the Naylor naysayers near us caught it. He walked over and handed it to Andre, who was dumbfounded and could barely muster a thank you. He held the ball tightly in his hands underneath his fleece blanket. My boys had never gotten a ball at a game before and I haven’t gotten a ball since I was about ten years old at a Sox game with my dad.

By the 8th inning, each Rodon strike elicited a big cheer from the 10,000 or so fans in the stadium (which is limited to 25 percent capacity due to Covid). 

By the 9th, everyone was on their feet and roaring when Rodon took the mound. Cleveland’s number twenty-two Josh Naylor led off at the plate, looking to bust up the perfect game. I had known he was coming up, so in the bottom of the 8th I yelled while he was in shouting range, “You can’t get a hit, twenty-two! You can’t get a hit!”

Unfortunately, I couldn’t really do anything about it. It was a man-to-man contest between him and Rodon. All eyes were on those two. 

Naylor took a couple of pitches, then hit a weak ground ball down toward first base. Jose Abreu had to charge off the bag to get it. 

Rodon wasn’t coming over to cover first. Abreu had to take it himself. With the ball in his mitt, he slid feet-first into the bag. Naylor, sprinting down the line, dove head-first. 

He was out. And he couldn’t believe it.

After video review, the umpire confirmed the call. Naylor was out by about two millimeters. The stadium erupted. Rodon’s perfect game was intact. One out.

The next batter took a ball and a couple of strikes. He fouled off a pitch to stay alive. Then, I saw my son’s prized ball go bouncing under the seat in front of us, down to the next row, and then the next. 

It landed near two gentlemen’s feet. I climbed over two rows of empty seats and said, “Excuse me,” while I reached under the chairs to grab the ball. 

When I stood up, I realized everything had gone quiet. I looked to the infield and saw a Cleveland player jogging toward first base. That couldn’t be right, could it? What happened?

A guy two rows behind me said that Rodon hit the batter in the foot with a slider. He took first base. The perfect game was over. But thankfully, a no-hitter was still possible.

Rodon rallied. Strikeout. Tense excitement. Two outs. One to go.

A sharp ground ball to third. A smooth pickup. A careful throw to first. Out! No-hitter!

This was the first no-hitter I’ve seen in person. Fans started taking pictures of the scoreboard. White Sox players mobbed the mound. 

Andre and I scooted off to the parking lot, found the car, and got in. I changed the CD for the ride home, putting in an ancient mix CD I made probably twenty years ago. I didn’t exactly remember what was on it.

Andre slept the whole drive home, which only took 35 minutes because traffic was light. Track 10 of the CD turned out to be Ice Cube’s “It Was a Good Day.”

I listened to it, not once, but twice, to let it sink in a little. I don’t think I’ll forget this day any time soon.