Take Me Out to the Ball Game
"A lot of firsts for you today," Kate murmurs into her baby girl's ear. Ellery sits on her lap, Kate's arms curled around her and her torso draped over the baby in a squeeze. Ella laughs and reaches out with two grasping hands as if she can take the ball right out of the air.
First baseball game, first crawl. First time to see a foul ball up close and personal. Their season seats are in a nice open section but there was still that mad scramble for the ball that Ellery thoroughly enjoyed, clapping her hands together and bouncing. Now every time a little boy goes running past with a glove or each time a concession worker steps down the stairs, Ella watches hungrily, expecting action.
Dashiell has a foam finger - Castle bought him one again - and he keeps tapping Ella's head with it, often knocking Kate in the process. She finally reaches up and snags it, pulls it off his hand with a raised eyebrow.
"What did I say?"
He hunches back in his seat, shrinking from her stern face, and Castle on his other side puts an arm around Dash. "Tell Mommy you're sorry."
"Sorry, Mommy," Dash mumbles, and then he crawls into Castle's lap to watch the game.
Kate's not giving him back the foam finger. Nope. Not-uh.
Ellery chirps in her lap and Kate glances down to see her chewing on a corner of her soft blanket, the brown and mint green polka dot one that she has to drag around with her. Kate has got to remember to wash it after today - a ketchup spill courtesy of big brother and she swears it smells like beer. Maybe that's just the stadium.
It's only the second inning, but the Yankees pitcher is getting beat up out there. Hit after hit keeps on coming and soon Dashiell is groaning with every pitch, throwing up his hands in disgust to mimic the diehard fan in front of them. Since it's August, these games count and if the Yankees can't manage to pull it together in the last run up to the post-season, there won't be a post-season.
"Wow. This guy's getting hammered," Castle says with a laugh. "I've never seen a starter get completely pummeled before."
"I don't know what's wrong with him," Kate sighs, cupping her hand around the container of snacks that Ella keeps trying to throw. "His last start was good."
Dashiell sighs too, a long and heavy thing. "No command."
Kate bursts out laughing, has to clap her hand over her mouth at the downright acidic look Dash is giving her from Castle's lap, and she shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. You're exactly right, Dash, honey. He's got no command over his fastball and his slider just looks like a pitch in the dirt."
"Paint the corners."
She suppresses the urge to laugh, once again, at how much baseball knowledge Dashiell has managed to squirrel away in his head, and instead she nods sagely. "You're right. He used to paint the corners, but now he's leaving it over the fat part of the plate."
"Down the middle."
"Right down the middle," she affirms.
"The fat part?" he asks, but she can tell he's just trying the phrase out, seeing how it sounds. He likes the baseball jargon almost as much as the game itself. But she was here for his first game, she saw his love for baseball when he was only eighteen months old, and she knows for a fact that the love of words came second.
"Hey, switch with me," Castle says suddenly. "You two are gonna talk baseball."
And I want my baby, he doesn't say.
Kate gives in, handing Ellery over to her father even as Dashiell climbs over the seats towards her. In this section, the chairs swivel and have a nice table in front of them with actual space between each seat. It makes her a little nervous to watch Dash balance his way across the gaps, but only because the boy is so very accident-prone.
Still he arrives safely and drops into her lap, snuggling down, pulling her arms around his waist to tuck himself in. She cups his cheek and kisses him for that, making him wriggle like a worm, and they settle in to watch the game.
"Know what the manager does when it gets bad?" she says.
"So bad?"
"Yeah, if the pitcher digs too deep of a hole and he can't get out of it, then the pitching coach will call up a guy to start throwing a few, get warmed up in the bullpen so he can take his place."
"A new pitcher."
"That's right. We call those middle relievers."
"Middle. . .relief."
"Relievers," she says softly.
"Mommy, I get warmed up with you?"
She grins against the top of his head. "You want to play catch with me?"
"Baseball."
"Yeah, baby, we can do that." She turns and puts her cheek to his head, glances at Castle who is playing some goofy game of peek-a-boo with their daughter, making her giggle like crazy. "Daddy might want to play catch too."
"Daddy?"
"I know. Shocking, isn't it? But I think it would make Daddy happy to play with you."
"You warm up with me first?"
"I'll still play, yeah. Of course."
Dashiell hums and his little fingers pat over her hands, contented.
"You want to be a baseball player when you grow up?" she asks, can't help wondering what dreams he has in his head, a personality right from the beginning whereas Ella has been quiet and slow to show herself.
"I do that? I play baseball?"
Huh. Well. "You can work on it. We can sign you up for little league when you're old enough." Maybe. He is just so. . .clumsy a kid. "What position would you want to play?"
"I play first."
"Oh?" Jeter is shortstop and she would have sworn he would pick Jeter's position. "First base, huh?"
"I first."
Hmm. Okay.
"Ella be second."
She cracks a smile and kisses his cheek for that. "Okay, yeah, I see. But you know what?"
"What, Mommy?" he sighs, sounding so happy that it makes her arms squeeze around him a little tighter, her chest clenching just the same.
"I was just gonna say that when I fill out the score card-"
"With the numbers?"
"Yes. And if the pitcher catches a line drive back at his head and it's an out? I write down a one. Because on the field, the pitcher is first."
"Ohhh," Dashiell says, turning around in her arms to give her a look. "Cool."
She grins back, knowing he would like that.
"What is first?" he asks, eyebrows knitting as he glances at the field once more.
She points toward the diamond and gives him the numbers, even though she knows they've talked about this before. "First is the pitcher, number two is the catcher, and then you go in order of the bases, so the first baseman is three."
"Three. I almost three."
"You are, uh-huh. Getting to be big."
"When I three, I can be first?"
She laughs then and settles back into her seat, giving up on the finer points of the game. He might have a lot of baseball knowledge in his head, but she doesn't need to stuff it too full. He'll figure it out. Just like she did over the years, going to games with her father. "Yeah, baby, you can be first any time you like."
"And you and Daddy warm me up."
She doesn't even try to make the distinction. "We'll warm you up. Count on it."
"I do love baseball," Dash says happily, sitting forward in her lap to applaud with the crowd as the pitcher finally gets the Yankees out of the inning. Now for the offense to make some noise.
"Make some noise!" Dashiell yells, cupping his hands around his mouth.
Oops. Guess she really has filled his head with baseball.
She turns and meets Castle's laughing eyes, and all she can do is shrug and bite her bottom lip, kinda proud of her kid and his excitement. Proud he's like Castle - so passionate about something, even if it's ultimately trivial.
Well, no. Her family is all here at a baseball game, enjoying it and each other, so no. No, it's not trivial at all.
"Let's go, Yankees!" Dashiell chants with the crowd, clapping in time, and Castle shoots his wife an amused look.
But she's cheering too, just as caught up. It's only the fifth inning - it feels like it's been going on forever - and Ellery is officially done. Or well, she's too restless and whiny to sit still in their seats any longer. Time for a distraction.
Castle tugs on Kate's sleeve, the two of them sitting on either side of Dashiell in the middle, and she glances at him with that absorbed and concentrated look.
"I'm gonna walk with Ella," he murmurs.
"Oh. You want me to-"
"No, no. We're good. Just a little restless. Both of us," he adds with a wink. She flushes - why she gets embarrassed about how much she loves baseball, he has no idea - and she nods and gestures towards the concessions behind him.
"Want to get us all d-e-s-s-e-r-t?" she spells out.
"Yes! Dessert!" Dashiell says with a bounce, popping up in his seat and sticking his face between his parents. "Please? Can we have ice cream sundaes?"
"Oops," she sighs.
Castle grins. "We can. I'll get enough for all of us and the waitress will come down and deliver them, okay?"
"Yay!" Dash cheers, and Castle gives the kid credit for cheering louder for his baseball team than he does for the ice cream. "Go now, Daddy."
"All right, all right," he laughs, curling his arm around Ella's head as he stands. He shuffles out of their row - this luxury seating is so convenient, the room and the waiters and the nicer chairs and the little table - and as he moves, Kate brushes her hand at his waist in good-bye.
He gives her a bright smile and a little wave, and he starts up the stadium steps with Ella in his arms.
"Let's see what we can see, huh, baby girl?"
For some reason, the Yankees have big costumed ballpark concession foods roaming the concourse. Perhaps they're supposed to race around the field during the 7th inning stretch, but right now they're entertaining kids near the sushi bar.
And Ellery is entertained.
Castle stands about twenty feet away from the big yellow mustard, kids throwing themselves into the cartoon's foam belly, trying to ask him questions, posing for pictures, snagging hugs. The Mustard pantomimes for the most part while Ketchup and - is that Horseradish? - act out some kind of duel for the throngs of kids.
Ellery is straining forward to see, her blue eyes under that dark hair so riveted. Castle walks them closer and she stiffens up, but with surprise rather than fear, her hands clapping together. She rocks back and gives him a wide smile, and then she's watching Mustard give out hugs again.
And then Mustard comes for them.
Ellery throws out her arms and reaches for him, making her happy baby noises, and Mustard gives her an awkward embrace of yellow foam and pats her on the back while Castle tries not to drop her.
When Mustard pulls away, she starts to bounce in Castle's arms, her hands still reaching for the costumed condiments, and then Ketchup gets in on the act, hugging her and rocking a little, playing it up. Now people are watching Ella interact with the foam ballpark foods, taking pictures on their phones, other kids with their faces tilted up to see.
"Hey guys," he says good-naturedly. "Thanks. Ellery, the Yankees don't have a mascot, so this is about as close as you're gonna get."
Horseradish puts both massive clown hands to his goofy face and hunches his shoulders like he's giggling - oh, wait, that's a she. There's a bow in Horseradish's, um. . .hair? and she dips her green-stockinged knees and reaches in to tickle Ellery.
His daughter gives a laugh and squirms in his arms, still kicking and happy, and then she reaches out and grabs a big fistful of Mustard's smooth neck. Well, the neck of the bottle. Or-
Whatever it is.
"Whoa, baby girl. Soft touch," Castle chuckles and reaches up to unfurl her fist. "Let go of Mustard so he can say hi to all these other kids. Okay?"
Ketchup is already waving bye-bye, elaborate and comical, and Horseradish is blowing kisses, and then Ellery, who they have tried over and over to get her to do the same, is smacking her palm into her mouth and throwing it away - blowing kisses back.
Castle stands there dumb-founded for a second, but he has to laugh. "Of course. The over-the-top condiments at a Yankees game are the ones that do it for you. Mommy's gonna be so mad she missed it."
Ellery is still blowing kisses like she's not eight months old but eighteen instead, and Castle figures, in some dark part of his heart, that this is exactly what he has to look forward to from his youngest daughter in the coming years.
And those blue eyes, just like Alexis's, are going to knock 'em dead.
At least her mother is a cop. That should hold some of them off.
At some point along their tour of the stadium, Castle finds the memorabilia hallway and reads Ellery the plaques out loud, giving her baseball statistics and late-inning comebacks like she (or he) actually cares about Yankees trivia. Dash would like it though; he'll have to remember for next time.
When they get to the middle of the hallway, kids and parents, thugs and teens, school trips and seniors are spilling around them, heading for their seats with hands burdened by food or beer, or going the opposite direction and walking a little too quickly for the bathroom or a concession line.
It's here where they find the mascot.
Behind glass, an out of the way display with an almost shameful sounding tone to the words on the plaque. Castle reads it quickly to himself and chuckles, glancing up at the strange looking. . .man?
Cleats on his feet, blue furry legs like Grover on Sesame Street, and then a pudgy, big-belted belly encased in a furry Yankees pinstripe uniform. One hand rests on a bat while the other is posed to wave, and above the collar of the jersey is a face with bright orange-red mustache and flaming hair topped by a Yankees hat. All of it is furry, all of it is hideous, really, and the plaque gives its origins as being mysteriously denied across the Yankees organization.
"Look at this guy, Ellery. This is Dandy, the Yankees mascot from '79 to '81. He looks like a fat Grover."
Ella chortles at that, her legs moving against him, and she leans forward to plant her hands against the glass.
"Yeah, I know you're in love with the puppets. I get it. Let's see what it says here. Dandy was developed by the same people who made the Phillie Phanatic - oh, yes, I see the resemblance. Scary. And what else? Oh, he appears to be modeled after former Yankees catcher Thurman Munson."
He laughs a little at the way Ellery is just making moon eyes at the mascot, so adoring and yearning. Darn - that's the same way she looked at him this morning when he got her out of her crib. So fickle, the young.
Castle goes back to reading the plaque, wincing and lowering his voice. "Oh yikes, baby girl, Munson died in a plane crash right after they made the mascot, so they had to delay his release. Cursed from the start, sounds like."
He races ahead in his reading, glancing at Ellery once more. She's turned back to him as if actually waiting for the next bit of information, and he shakes his head and keeps telling her the story.
"Listen to this - Steinbrenner gave final approval to Dandy, but he claims he has no memory of it. Not only that, he said that mascots had no place in baseball after this really famous hexing incident in Seattle. Wait. What?"
Castle reads on but there's nothing more about a 'hexing' incident, no more information, and so he juggles Ellery to his other arm and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He has got to know the story on this one.
"Oh, Ella, baby girl. This is crazy," he says with delight. He lifts his eyes to hers and she's peering down at his phone as if impatient for the story. "Okay, okay. Hold on. Let me read and I'll tell you."
He scans the rest of the article quickly, amused by the seriousness with which it's written, and then he gives it back to Ella, jostling her in his arm so she can see the mascot again.
"Okay, here's the story. On July 10th in 1979, the Yankees were playing an out of town game against Seattle. But the San Diego Chicken - which was, at that time, leased to other ballparks and not just stuck in San Diego (look at that, Ella, a traveling chicken)-"
Ellery squeals and claps her hands in the middle of his story, smacking a hand against the glass as if getting Dandy's attention. Castle shuffles back a little bit, keeping her away, and continues.
"So. In the middle of the game, the on-loan San Diego Chicken puts a - get this, I swear it says this - a 'very public hex' on the Yankees pitcher Ron Guidry."
Castle stares down at the article for another long moment then glances up at his daughter. "Seriously. I promise. A very public hex. Don't give me that look, baby girl. Just like your mother. I swear this guy is taking the hex very seriously. And what do I know about baseball? There could be hexes. Like Harry Potter only with. . .chickens."
Ellery's little frowning brow melts away in the next instant, and she chirps at him like she's asking, What next, Daddy?
At least, she is in his head.
"So the hex infuriates outfielder Lou Piniella, who decides that the chicken was out of line. And then Piniella charges the Chicken. I swear, it's right here in black and white. He ran after a chicken. Well, a guy in a suit, really."
Ellery must enjoy his delivery, because she's absolutely cracking up now. Laughing at him in that deep and hearty baby way, where she can barely stop and her body is tense and curled around his arm with her mirth.
"When Piniella charges after the chicken, he can't quite catch him. Wily San Diego Chicken, huh? So Piniella takes off his glove and chucks it at the bird. The umpire has to pull them apart."
Ellery still laughs, harder now, if that's possible, and he's getting these knowing and pleased smiles from women as they pass him, mothers with those isn't that darling? looks on their faces, and Castle can't help but lean in and kiss Ellery's cheek for it.
When he pulls back, he continues the story.
"Of course, the fans at the game ridiculed Piniella and the Yankees players for letting a bird get to them, and the Yankees went home in something like disgrace. Steinbrenner apparently even had to step out on the field and separate his player and the chicken. It was a dark day in Yankees history. No wonder poor Dandy is shoved off back here."
And how much does Castle love that he gets to discover it with his giggling baby girl? How she lights up for him, just at the sound of his voice, how she enjoys being with him.
He puts his phone away and wraps both his arms around her even as a cheer goes up from the crowd, thunderous.
"Let's go find our seats. Dash is gonna be asking after his ice cream sundae."
And Ellery worms her way down in his arms, her cheek against his chest, and he carries her back to their section, her warm body and her joy leaking out and making the whole concourse shine.