They’re Here! They’re Here!

Four long days and even longer nights I have been patiently waiting for the delivery of my 2007 Arizona Diamondbacks season tickets. Well maybe patiently should not be the adjective I should use. The saga began on Friday March 16 which was the date identified on the postcard the Diamondbacks sent me as to when I would receive my tickets. To be precise the postcard said Friday March 16 or Saturday March 17 so I shouldn’t have been surprised when the tickets were not delivered Friday. On Saturday I waited for the mail to arrive but again I was disappointed when the mailman came and went without delivering my tickets. I thought for sure that they would arrive on Monday which is why I developed a plan just in case they showed up while I was at the office. My day ended again in disappointment and I headed to bed very depressed. I laid there in bed counting the revolutions of the ceiling fan trying to get to sleep. Sleep though was far from my mind. I felt like one of my children had run away from home and I was helpless not knowing where they were or even if they were safe. At that moment I realized how helpless I was and that I was going to need some divine intervention to be safely reunited with the season tickets that I loved so deeply.


I crawled out of bed and quietly left my bedroom. In the dark I made my way downstairs through the living room where I stopped one more time to look out the window to see if perhaps the mailman had just forgotten to drop off my package and would miraculously appear at 1:47 AM with an apology and my tickets but that was not the case. In the cool night air of an Arizona only the single street light was working and even it sometimes would go on and off as the bulb grew old and faltered. I walked through the kitchen and dining room and noticed that Trina had begun a list of things that needed to be completed this week. No where on the list was help Jeff find his season tickets so I figured I was on my own to solve this problem. Yeah, this was going to take calling on a higher power. At first I thought I would call Jeff Moorad or Ken Kendrick but I figured neither of them would be willing to put a trace on a package of tickets. At least not at 2:00 AM on a Tuesday morning. No, I would need to call on the baseball Gods.

I went down into the family room into what Trina referred to as ”the Shrine”. I went to the end table and found the crystal carving of Chase Field that was given to 2006 Season Ticket Holders as a gift. In its base was a light which I flipped on so that the crystal was illuminated. I knelt down on the Diamondbacks wicker style welcome mat from the 1999 season resting my clasped hands on the purple and teal seat cushion on my replica Bank One Ballpark stadium seat. Facing the autographed baseballs, photos of the First Pitch and a row of bobbleheads, I began to humbly pray.

“O great Gods of the National Pastime! I call upon thee to rise from the dust of seasons past when fields were green and American League pitchers hit for themselves. I pray and ask for forgiveness for those three games last June when I missed those 3 games because my wife, the pagan unbeliever, made me go to Florida and miss the Interleague Series against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. I pray and ask forgiveness for that one game a few years back that I had to leave early because Mallorie was bugging me that it was her birthday and she wanted to go home and open her presents. I have banished her away to college so we shall have no more trouble from her. I also wanted to ask for forgiveness for the curse that I put on Kirk Gibson’s dog in 1987 when his lack of production cost me a Fantasy League championship. I had no idea that one day he would become the bench coach for the Diamondbacks.”

“I kneel before you in earnest prayer to ask for your intervention in helping me find the long lost 2007 Arizona Diamondbacks Season Tickets for Section 132 Row 15 Seats 13-14. Please bless the postal service that their hands may be swift and their minds may be clear that they may be in tune with my tickets. Bless them that their chariots be swift and their reaction times be short. Bless them that they may part traffic like the Red Sea that they may drive on dry ground to the Promised Land. And please oh Baseball Gods soften the hearts of the non-believers that they may feel thy goodness and know that baseball will deliver us from the darkness of the off-season. And bless the arms of the pitching staff especially Jose Valverde who desperately needs some help with his control. And bless the Diamondbacks bats that they may strike true so that their singles become doubles and their doubles become triples. Oh and as long as I am talking to you, do you think there is anyway possible I might be able to persuade you to get Trina to lighten up on me with that whole honey-do list thing? I’d really appreciate it. Amen.”

As I ended my prayers a deep sense of calm fell over me. I was no longer worried about my tickets and felt comforted knowing that the will of the Baseball Gods would see fit that the tickets would arrive safely. I went back to bed and for the first time in several nights I slept peacefully with visions of playing with the roof open at Chase Field and the team wearing their traditional purple and teal uniforms. When my alarm clock went off I got out of bed with a new bounce in my step knowing that today would be the day my prayers would be answered.

Trina and the kids had anticipated another day of dad being on the ledge ready to jump because he didn’t have his tickets. Instead I came downstairs humming my favorite song “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”. The kids stood motionless and confused. Trina asked if something was wrong since I seemed so different. I related the activities of my early morning experience. I thought she would be happy to see I had finally grasped the importance of religion. Instead she just kept saying over and over, “You are so going to burn when you die.” This must have been what the early disciples of Christianity must have felt like. Like those days, the Gods took this opportunity to produce a miracle. While we were talking a car drove down the street of our neighborhood. We both looked up to see that it was a postal vehicle. The mailman had arrived.

The scene was similar to those you see in every neighborhood when the ice cream truck begins its pied-piper like melody and children emerge from their houses to follow the truck until it makes its next stop. I had my Diamondbacks pen in hand and ran out the front door, my purple and teal Diamondbacks pajamas flapping in the wind. When the van stopped I eagerly stood with pen in hand waiting for the mail man to open his door. I must admit he did look a little frightened at the sight of a grown man in his pajamas holding a pen like an Olympic torch. You would think he would be used to sights such as this but perhaps not. He cautiously rolled down his window and asked if I needed something. That had to be the silliest question anyone has ever asked me. Of course I needed something! I needed 83 freshly minted tickets in full color that opened a world of magic and dreams. This explanation just seemed to confuse the little man and frustrate me. I tried describing what I was expecting and how important it was. He finally realized what I meant and stated that he did have a package for me. That was what I longed to hear. While the little postal man dug through his packages I danced around the car (partly because I was so excited and partly because I had been up since 5 AM and had not dared go to the bathroom for fear of missing the mailman). At last he found my package and I eagerly accepted it rushing home with my treasure.

There was great celebration about to take place. I quickly gathered the family. While I wanted to rip the package open immediately and dance around with the ticket books I was able to maintain my composure. I spoke to my children and taught them the importance and the power of prayer and how whenever we have a baseball related problem we can ask the Baseball Gods for guidance. Trina being the unbeliever that she is attempted to attribute all of this to earthly explanations but I knew better. After my speech and testimony we opened the package to see the goodness within. There is nothing more beautiful than a brand new packet of season tickets. For 83 magical days I can use one of the enclosed tickets to forget the troubles of the world and bask in the wonderful sights and sounds of a baseball game. I wiped a tear of joy away knowing that my tickets are home safe and sound back in 2007. Those who say miracles no longer occur have never seen events such as those at our house the last four days. Nothing else could explain it. It is true, baseball is a religion and I am a believer.


1 Comment

  1. BJ Blinston

    Now I know what to do about my Diamondbacks Authentic Road Cap that is on back order. If this doesn’t work I’ll have to ask the ghost of Babe Ruth (who I’m sure resides in my signed baseball) to haunt the MLB shop until it shows up.

    Thanks Jeff

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