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When Ruth and I arrived at our seats
pre-game chatting was in full swing.

A couple in their 70s 
she thinner than he and softly speaking
her feet tucked onto the seat
a plastic cup balanced on her knee
sipping beer until they left 
the sixth-inning was baseball enough.

First dates in their 20s were getting acquainted
he told her today’s game didn’t deserve enthusiasm:
“Yankees Red Sox late August 
yeah no I’m going to be honest with you!”
On the innings went
on and on until 
she smiled for a couples’ selfie and
took a photo of the field before leaving
the 7th inning left to play out on its own.

The guy next to me said his grandson got hit last year
a bull’s-eye foul ball to his forehead
it was the last injury before the backstop was wrapped around
he was glad also to share that the man who usually sat here
caught a dozen fouls in my seat.

Behind us 
two were catching up with personal headlines:
“We must have walked half a marathon in London;
a book I read this summer was Soccer-nomics
about where the money in soccer goes”.
She’s interested in shoreline conservation
“where the water meets the land,
taking a class at Harvard Xtension
and giving whale watching tours.”
He asked, 
“Hey Scorekeeper (that’s me)
did you see that moon it’s huge?”

Two couples sat together 
it was easy to see which couples paired. 
She was 40s with long hair and had her two boys
her husband dressed in a Yankees shirt unbuttoned.
The other couple wore tighter expressions
she with an Ortiz jersey tucked into jeans.
The Boston husband was brother to long brown hair 
their noses the same.
Late in the game I boo’d loudly
the perfidy of a 9th inning walked-in run.
The younger son turned and preached to everyone,
“Folks why can’t we all get along this is just a game”.
His rally rejoined with the next pitch, “Let’s go Yankees!”
I grabbed his attention
wagging my finger to convey “Uh-uh Cant Do That”.
To practice what he preached, he sat down. 

Eight rows down 
a huge guy round with fat
shared his cotton candy with a tiny girl.
Later he turned on a lightstick 
he handed it to her with a father’s smile.

Ruth and I enjoyed the particulars of the game
she noticed the equinox moon
long before the London Harvard Shoreline man.
High fives for the Betts and the Ortiz home runs 
high fives for the Yankees’ demise, a foreshadowing.