Wednesdays Are For My Wife
Personally I think Chris’s last post about Texas was hilarious because you have to admit, it’s pretty true, don’t ya think? Chris and I have many great friends from Texas, including the ones I’m about to write about… oh, I should probably mention who the “I” is in this blog. It’s the wife writing. I was supposed to post this last Wednesday under a new series, “Wednesdays Are For My Wife” (or something different if we can come up with something more clever…. any ideas, you can comment here or email email@example.com).
Anyway, hi, I’m Tracy, Mrs. Disco to some, but you can call me anything you’d like as long as you don’t call me a cleat chaser. Oh, heck, you can even call me that if you want because that label doesn’t really count until they are making millions, right? I’m a lot more of a rambler than Chris is, so excuse this nonsense I’m going on about.
First, I will share with you the stipulation Chris gave me before writing this blog: If his “rating” dropped any lower than where it currently stands, I would be banned from future blogging. If, on the other hand, it boosted his popularity level, then I would be able to continue with occasional guest appearances, as they are deemed necessary. So, help me out by reading this post about twenty extra times and leaving comments raving about how Chris’s wife’s blogs are way more interesting than his. Or not.
I’d like to give you an insider’s look into the secret life of a minor leaguer’s wife. There are so many aspects of this lifestyle that truly just downright stink for a player’s wife, but luckily for me (and for you I guess), I enjoy turning frustrating experiences into funny stories I can laugh about later.
One aspect that never changes is the fact that we live with only the belongings that fit into our car and are on the road living in non-ideal conditions for seven months of every year, more than half of the time without our husbands. We pack and unpack a minimum of five times every season and that doesn’t account for last minute promotions. We need different things for different places, so it’s not like we can take one suitcase and be done with it. Oh that would be too easy and nothing in the minor league lifestyle is easy (except the groupies. OH! Did I just say that out loud?!). : ) Whew, back to my story. We need everything from obvious stuff like his baseball gear (luckily he’s not a position player otherwise we wouldn’t have room for his bats) to kitchen stuff like pots and pans and dishes to our vacuum and cleaning supplies since I’m a neat freak and too poor to buy new ones in every city. We also need clothes for two seasons (summer clothes for Spring Training in sunny Arizona, winter clothes for the start of the season so we don’t freeze to death in the stands, and then cute little dress up clothes and heels so our husbands can proudly wave at us after a game).
Side rant about clothes: When I first started going to Chris’s games in Low-A Burlington, I wore a baseball cap, t-shirt, jeans, and flip flops because isn’t that what you’re supposed to wear to a baseball game anyway??? I noticed some of the more seasoned wives were more stylishly dressed in designer jeans, with fancy handbags, make up, and heels. Frankly, I thought they looked a little silly for wearing pumps and looking so dolled up at a simple baseball game… but then I mentioned this to Chris and to my surprise he joked that apparently we’re supposed to rise through the minor leagues together to prepare us for the big leagues. We deduced that the lower level girls have to learn how to dress and behave like a big leaguer’s wife, so they work their way up the levels just like the players do. Hrmph. So, now here we are in Double-A and yes, I sheepishly admit I now come to games slightly dolled up. I still think you can probably tell the difference between the big league wives and me simply because I have a knock-off purse and my hair is usually in a pony tail, whereas the big league wives must get their hair and nails done before every game because they look a little more fabulous than I do. I did just get a pair of fancy designer jeans, so I think I’m almost ready for a promotion to a Triple-A wife soon; I hope Chris is ready for the move, too!
Okay, back to the original reason I am blogging. (Ya can’t say I didn’t warn you about the rambling.)
We had a slight delay in getting to Arkansas from Arizona due to a little mishap our friends (from Texas) had along the way. It coincidentally had to do with suitcases full of clothes that didn’t fit into their car, so they were strapped to the roof. I’ll bet you can see where this is going, but don’t get too excited, it doesn’t end as badly as you might hope. Chris and I left Arizona right after he finished pitching in his last Spring Training game and our friends left about an hour before us. After a long day of driving, we stopped in different cities for the night and oddly enough ended up driving alongside one another about three hours into the trip on the second day. After driving together for about an hour, our friends called our cell to ask if we could take a look at the top of their car because it was making some funny noises. As they were pulling up along side us, we noticed the front part of the luggage on the top of the car was getting a little wind under it, but it looked fairly secure. Whilst still on the phone with them, they continued to drive past so we could get a good look at the entire top of their car when we realized they were starting to lose luggage off the back of their car!!!
Chris was driving, so he couldn’t really see whether anything was really falling off or not, but I started yelling into the phone for our friends to pull over! “Pull over! You’re about to lose luggage off the back of your car!!!” all the while I’m laughing hysterically and almost unable to clearly tell them how critical it was for them to get off the road now!!
Chris thought I was kidding as did our friends, so for a good half mile both cars continued to drive 70 mph on a busy highway with a big blue suitcase dangling off the roof into their back window hanging on by two very thin cords. The problem is they couldn’t see the suitcase in their window because just like every other minor leaguer, there was so much stuff in their car they couldn’t see out their back windows. I’m now gasping for air I’m laughing so hard while very urgently pleading for Chris to pull over so our friends would follow. Everyone eventually realizes I was NOT kidding and we head to a safe place on the shoulder to find most of the luggage probably seconds from becoming road kill.
Our friends had about five big suitcases on top of their car secured down by a tarp and one of those bungee cord nets. It had worked well for the first four hundred miles, but the second day of driving must have taken its toll on the net and it was starting to give way little by little. Our friends re-secured the netting and we set out on our jolly way for about ten minutes when suddenly the suitcases made a drastic shift to the back of the car, almost looking like they were about to shoot off like missiles. We feverishly began honking our horn and flashing our lights hoping to avoid another near-death experience for the luggage and we again both pulled over. This time they took the entire net off the car, re-positioned the luggage, and more diligently secured everything. We even offered some extra twine we had in our car and added that new support to the apparent fragile rear end area and set off on our jolly way for a second time.
Chris and I watched their luggage like hawks now impressed by how well the luggage in the back of the car was staying in place. What we didn’t notice was now the front luggage was no longer secured well and the hooks on the bungee net were starting to fly off and cause the tarp to look like a parachute on top of their car. We decided to take a drive by to check out the front of their parachute and HOLY COW (!) the front suit case has so much air under it now, it’s standing up on the back corner of itself about to flip up and go flying over their car! Again, I start waving my arms wildly, pointing at the top of their car with big panic stricken eyes trying to get them to pull over AGAIN! This time there was an exit to an old country road we pulled off to and then used the rest of the twine to tie their stuff down for good!
I guess that’s why they say third times a charm because sure enough, this time everything held well enough to get our friends safely to Arkansas with all of the much needed designer clothing a Double-A wife will need for a season.
Honestly, angels were watching over our friends on their trip from Spring Training to Double-A because based purely on physics they should have lost all of their luggage multiple times and it really would have caused a horrible accident because it’s not like a normal car would have driven over their Texas-sized suitcases like it was a pebble from Rhode Island. Could you imagine the sight it would have been to witness a blue torpedo shooting off someone’s car at 70 mph??