Waiting for an Angel

Coaches, teachers and parents know that the learning and discovery

process is a two-way street; that many times, adults are learning

from kids.

The most important lessons kids teach us are life lessons, the

reality checks that remind us there was a time in our lives when

anything was possible and no one could convince us otherwise.

I got one of those reality checks last Sunday at the Angels game.

My wife and I went to the game with our son, Roy, and his friend

Michael Markovsky.

We arrived at the stadium at 11:30 a.m., in time to catch the

day’s promotion that had fans standing on the field’s warning track

while the players and coaches roamed around shaking hands and having

their pictures taken. My vote for most aloof was Troy Percival, the

closer, who spent a lot of time taking pictures of his own on a

digital camera. The friendliest, hands down, was manager Mike

Scioscia. Forget Ah-nold, run Mike for governor.

Coincidentally, our nieces Dana and Kellie Hines were also at the

game, Dana with her boyfriend, Bill Wilkins, and Kellie with her

newly minted fiance, Patrick Pendergest. Roy and Michael split their

time between the relatives, us and the frozen malt vendor.

The game was exciting, with the Angels playing more of the “small

ball” that got them the World Series championship last year. They won

8-3.

After the game, the boys ran down to the field where they stood in

line for 20 minutes for the privilege of running once around the

bases, which the Angels allow after each Sunday home game. That was a

huge treat for the boys.

We took our time leaving, and there were almost no fans left in or

out of the stadium. Halfway between the stadium gate and the car,

there was a large, chartered bus at the top of a long ramp. Four or

five fans stood ready to plead for autographs should any player

emerge.

“Who’s coming out here?” we asked.

“The Angels All-Stars,” a fan replied. “But they probably won’t

stop for autographs.”

The boys don’t need their hearing checked, but there is no denying

that they did not catch the last half of the reply. Despite the heat,

Roy and Michael wanted to wait for Scioscia, Troy Glaus and Garret

Anderson on the slim chance that they would come out at all, then

stop for autographs. To a kid, any chance is a huge chance.

I agreed to wait in the heat.

After about 15 minutes, a couple of fans left. A couple of minutes

after that, Glaus and Anderson walked up the ramp. As they

approached, the boys called out, “Mr. Glaus, Mr. Anderson!” but the

players did not acknowledge them and walked directly onto the bus.

That was enough for me.

“Let’s go,” I said.

As I walked away toward the car and its air conditioning, my wife

reminded me that Mike Scioscia had not yet appeared. Remembering what

the fan said about the likelihood of autographs, I said, “What have

you seen that would indicate that he’s going to stop for an

autograph?” Unfortunately, I was tired and hot and I said it with an

edge.

“The boys want to wait,” she said, “Why don’t you go get the car

while they wait?”

I crawled on all fours to the car, sure that my last breath would

be taken in the parking lot at Edison Field. “How do kids do it?” I

thought. “Where do they get the energy? And how can they set

themselves up for such a big disappointment?”

I drove back to the big bus, and the boys came running over,

excited.

“We got David Eckstein’s autograph!” they yelled.

Apparently, Eckstein departed up the ramp in a car driven by his

brother. But Scioscia had not come out, and I called for everyone to

come to the car. As they walked toward me, their backs to the big

bus, Scioscia appeared at the top of the ramp. At that moment, I

wondered whether I should tell the boys and let them get disappointed

or ignore Scioscia and go home.

“Turn around, guys. Mike Scioscia’s at the bus,” I said.

Michael and Roy turned around and ran back to the bus, yelling,

“Mr. Scioscia, Mr. Scioscia!”

At that moment I thought: 1) Shame on me for doubting the spirit

of a child, and b) Mike Scioscia for governor. For at that moment,

Scioscia handed his bag to the driver and signed autographs for the

boys.

As they walked back, I apologized to everyone for being grumpy and

for being too quick to pull the trigger on the day at the game.

Thanks to Michael and Roy for reminding me that kids have a lot to

teach adults.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer.

Readers may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at

(949) 642-6086.