Summer (One Sixty-Two: Day 74)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day Seventy-Four: Billy Butler, Kansas City Royals

There’s a Springsteen cover band playing “Thunder Road” on the pool deck of a hotel called the Montreal Inn. From eight blocks away, we can hear the music as we roll our bicycles out of the garage for the short ride to the beach. Inside the house, I walk my dog into her crate, and turn on the TV so she’s not frightened by the sound of all those fireworks yet to come. I choose “Sunday Night Baseball,” and Billy Butler of Kansas City is up at bat against Joel Pineiro of the Los Angeles Angels. Pineiro strikes Butler out just as my dog takes a seat in her crate.

Down at the beach, the crowds are thickening, as adults and children lay out their blankets and unfold their beach chairs. Once we’ve claimed a spot, I grab our baseball gloves and have a catch with my girls for a few minutes. Nearby, a group of kids light some sparklers. The cover band has moved on to “Rosalita.”

As the sun sets, the thin clouds streaking across the darkening blue sky take on brilliant tints of pink and orange. Across the bay, we can see the fireworks beginning over in Delaware. As the sky darkens just a bit more, the grandparents sit down in their beach chairs, while the parents and kids huddle together on a blanket.

As the fireworks begin shooting up from an offshore barge, the oohs and ahhs commence right away. Explosions of green, red, pink, white, yellow and purple fill the sky above us, and the beach crowd is captivated. The 8-year-old calls out names of holidays that match the colors of each firework: “Christmas!” she shouts to the red and green sparkles above her. “Easter!” for the bright pink shimmer. “St. Patrick’s Day!” for the green field of lights.

The fireworks last for 15 minutes, ending in a scintillating rainbow of colors and pops and applause. When it ends, we rise from our comfy seats in the sand, roll up our blankets and make our way back to the bicycles. The crash of ocean waves reclaims its place of prominence among the sound effects here. The moon and stars once again direct our visual effects.

It is summer, as ripe as a fresh peach. As bright as a fireworks display. As reassuring as a Springsteen song. As alive as a baseball game.

I breathe deep, take it all in, and pedal home slowly through the gathering darkness. There’s no rushing this.