Page 58 of The Amazing Date

My gaze shifts to the sweat-soaked back of the black-clad umpire. A ridiculous choice of color on a hot summer day. I’ve never been this close to a Major League Baseball game. Our parents took us to our share of Phillies games growing up, but we were almost always in the upper deck or seated far out in the outfield.

This close, the energy of the crowd hits you in the chest, practically moving your T-shirt. Jacob deGrom whips a pitch toward the plate, the ball so fast it blurs on entry. The pill-sized sphere explodes into the catcher’s mitt, the mini eruption forcing my ears to perk up and the goofy schoolboy grin to spread across my face. On the next pitch, the batter swings with a ferocity the TV cameras fail to pick up. The umpire grunts, “Strike.” I never knew they spoke during a game. The crowd explodes into cheers as the dejected batter hangs his head and returns to the visitors’ dugout. The stadium erupts in a celebration worthy of a champion. After years of struggling, the win-starved fans have a team capable of going all the way. My gaze floats up to the rafters, the stomping of feet pulling away my focus, concern growing on my shoulders that the frenzied crowd will cause the stadium to collapse on top of us. I fight the desire to sketch this moment and realize I want to watch every baseball game this close from now on.

“Two outs, one more to go.” The usher draws my attention away from the field. “At the end of the inning, we’re going to step onto the field. Roberto, I understand you are taking part, correct?”

I nod, unsure of what I’ve signed up for, praying it’s not a hitting competition in front of this brash crowd.

“Okay. Rylee, when we step out, you will see a circular mat with the race logo to your right. You will step there and stay until it’s over. You can’t signal or talk to Roberto the entire time we are out there. Got it?”

Rylee shoots a thumbs-up to the usher and a smile toward me.

“And what will I be doing?” I ask.

“You’ll follow me to a spot in front of the Mets dugout. There we will have a microphone and a camera. A host will meet us and will ask you three questions. If you get all three correct, I will hand you your next clue, and you continue with the race. If you get any wrong, you’ll go to the end of the line and have to do it again, but next time, Rylee will answer the questions.”

“End of the line?” I ask, turning to the sound of footsteps in the corridor behind us. The blondes.

Our usher continues. “Yeah, you go to the end of the line of waiting teams if you get a question wrong. We only have time between innings for one team. So, if you get this first set wrong, you will need to wait another full inning and a half before you can go again.”

“And how long is that?” Rylee asks.

“It’s baseball. There is no clock,” Kelly chimes in from behind us before I can answer the question. “It could be ten minutes, or it could be an hour. Don’t you know anything?” She tilts her neck, her right ear pushed toward her right shoulder. “Duh.”

I step toward Rylee before she can respond. “It doesn’t matter. Guess what I’m going to do with the three questions?” I take a step toward the field, forcing Rylee’s gaze to follow, anything to draw her attention away from Kelly.

She bites her lower lip. I know she has three smart retorts for me, but instead, she plays the comedic straight woman to my setup. “What’s that, dear?”

“I’m going to… knock it out of the park.”

Rylee’s smile radiates in the small corridor, and she provides an exaggerated eye roll. “I knew there would be a price to pay for having you sit next to Ronnie on that long flight. I think that qualifies as a dad joke.”

Another cheer from the crowd halts our flirtation, and the usher taps my elbow. “That’s the third out. We’re up. Follow me.”

The minute my feet hit the grass, I know I’m in trouble. If standing in the tunnel proved awe-inspiring, standing on a field with forty thousand sets of eyes on you is paralyzing. I slow my gait, suddenly forgetting how to walk. How the hell will I be able to form a sentence, let alone answer a question in this environment?

The field is a buzz of activity. The visiting Milwaukee Brewers players race out to their positions, balls flying in every direction. The grounds crew sweeps the infield dirt, kicking up a dust field that floats into the stand. The giant jumbotron screen in center field is pumping music, showing highlights of other games in progress. It’s sensory overload, and I don’t know where to focus.

The usher hands me off to a man wearing a Delta Airlines polo shirt and a microphone. He points to a spot on the grass and whispers to me, “We begin in five, four…”

Wait, what?

For the first time, I notice a cameraman standing two feet to my left. He has the camera focused on the MC, whose image appears over his shoulder on the fifty-foot-high, hi-definition jumbotron behind him. “Welcome to the Delta Airlines know your traveling companion game.” The echo of his voice catches me by surprise. I look up at the scoreboard and see they’ve gone to a split screen. One small box of the MC and two larger squares—one of Rylee beaming nervously from the mat a few yards away, and the other of some scared schmuck who looks lost. That would be me.

“We’re going to ask three questions about your travel companion. Get them right and you move on. Get one wrong, and your team will have to stay and try again.” The MC’s voice softens, and I clench, knowing I’m unprepared. “Question number one. Does your partner Rylee prefer window seat or aisle?”

I exhale. They aren’t asking me to hit a fastball. Hell, they aren’t even asking me the atomic weight of nickel. It clicks—Delta Airlines. We are in a travel competition. Duh, indeed.

Every flight, Rylee’s asked for the window seat so she can study and prepare for the next leg without being interrupted by someone needing to go to the restroom. “Window.”

A giant green check mark appears on the jumbotron, and I relax my shoulders. A loud cheer erupts from the crowd. That was easy. I can do this. Bring it on.

“Question number two. While traveling, does your partner prefer to read, sleep, talk, or watch a movie?”

Another easy one. All she’s done this entire trip is read and study. “Read.” I turn toward Rylee with a confident smile. She hangs her head, staring at the grass near her feet. The sound of a harsh buzzer followed by a cascade of laughs and boos from the crowd cause me to look up to see a large red X placed across my face. How is that not right?

“We’re sorry. You didn’t complete the challenge and will have to try again. Please follow the usher out. Thanks for playing the Delta Traveling Companion Game.”

Stunned, I follow the usher back toward the corridor. Rylee avoids my gaze the entire time.

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