Thursday, April 21, 2011

premature wrinkling

Beyond the third baseline a line of amber traces the setting horizon.  Gen X mothers unwind from the fraught tension of watching their little leaguers, descending into prattle on the most recent sale at Talbot's or Nieman Marcus.  A precocious toddler fidgets with a pack of Virginia Slims.  And adjacent a near chainlink fence a well-coiffed gentleman in his mid-30s, in skinny jeans and a sportjacket, waits patiently for his 4th grade slugger to retire from the visiting team's dugout.  His son moves with the easy rhythm of a natural baseball player.  A calm torque, a lazy finesse.  Today's game was as good as any other.  An opposite field triple; a "good eye" at the plate, earning a walk after behind in the count.  Not to mention a line drive he snagged at 2nd base, indeed almost doubling up an ambitious baserunner.  Yes, today's was a swell game.

And so our fashionable father offered a ready hand parallel at his thigh, in excellent position to recieve a "low-five" from an excited youth athlete.

But alas, the father was left hanging.  A curious pause.  Always the thoughtful dad, he surfaced the full arc of possibilities "is a low-five not urban enough, should I have provided dap?" "is he teething and/or entering an angsty pubescent stage?" "is he still unhappy with his 1st inning strikeout?"

In time the young ballplayer responded, "Dad, I appreciate the gesture.  But I just applied a base coat of Dove hand lotion and I need to let it set.  I'm comfortable in my skin and don't want to suffer from premature wrinkling."

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