Here Comes The Rain Again

Wow. Sunday night was a beast. We pulled the tarp five or six times (it felt like even more), but we got the game in, and got the win!

The Eurythmics made rain sound great. Like a spiritual rebirth. Pouring on my head like a memory. Falling on my head like a new emotion. Um, no, Annie. It's none of those things. Not on a game day, at least. Not even close.

I can't really describe what it's like to sprint at full speed from the Press Box to the field, through a crowd of 9,000, while everyone else is going the other way. Normal people are trying to get away from the rain, and we're running into it. I imagine it's a bit similar to this.

Then we get the signal from the umps and heave and ho until our new extra-mammoth-sized tarp is rolled out and ready to be pulled. It weighs a ton, the wind is whipping, fans are mad at us for covering the field...and, oh, yeah, it's pouring rain. Add in the mud, gravel, and God-only-knows-what-else that is being kicked up in our faces (and into our mouths, ears, and just about everywhere else), and you have a thoroughly unenjoyable experience.

Now do it half a dozen more times on the same night, and you have a legendary Father's Day Sunday. Not the good kind.

Hopefully this week will bring better weather. I'm all tarped out, and it's not even July.

-- Dave