(Back by popular demand every baseball season…)
Take me out to the ball game, Take me out to the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks. I don’t care if I never get back.
Let me root, root, root for the home team If they don’t win it’s a shame. ‘Cause it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out At the old ballgame. –Take Me Out to the Ballgame
It’s baseball season! So, it’s back! Back! Back! Gone!
It is out of here! But where did it go? Not the homerun baseball but those delicious cheese nachos! Someone took them!
America’s favorite pastime evokes images of The Boys of Summer, hot dogs, fireworks, and the Mystery of the Missing Cheese Nachos.
Have you ever had something stolen where you see the likely suspect, but you do not have solid proof? Do you confront them? You know they will deny it no matter what. They might even be severely offended.
Little siblings go through this all the time in their appeals and denials to mother. Something is missing and someone must have stolen it. Teachers regularly deal with students making these accusations. The police investigate such things. Corporations sue over stolen ideas, secrets, and copyrights.
I cannot think of any situation with higher stakes than when someone steals your cheese nachos. Follow this true story and the investigative revelation of the shocking suspect.
The major league baseball park was electric as we watched my kids’ favorite team. The summer vacation was punctuated with this big finale. A pro player tossed a baseball to my daughter. She was thrilled. My sons got pictures of the star players.
They all learned some new language not normally heard on our Sunday ventures. Two highly intoxicated fans had a shout-off contest. “Ken Caminiti is a weenie.” (The third baseman made a couple of errors.) “Mike Bielecki is a weasel.” (The pitcher had a rough outing.) Back and forth. The raucous duo found unity in an extended rant, “The umpire rocks,” or something like that.
In one of the middle innings, I took the kids to the concession stand for some mid-game snacks. I returned with my arms full and my wallet empty. I carried drinks and hotdogs and popcorn and some cheese nachos. As we repositioned our seating alignment, we passed out the refreshments. Lots of happy faces.
I loved watching my kids enjoying their baseball park hot dogs just as I did many years ago. Let the contest begin. They savored the hot dogs rather than snarfing them down like Joey Chestnut, the world record champion.
After all the food was distributed, I could not find the cheese nachos. I thought I had placed them at my feet below the seat. I asked each member of the family. I searched everywhere. I racked my brain.
Did I leave the cheese nachos at the concession counter? Did this guy next to me take them? His buddy was eating cheese nachos. They were both laughing. It looked very suspicious. Do I confront them? Cause a scene? Embarrass them and my family?
I whispered to my wife that the fans on our aisle had stolen my cheese nachos. She told me to let it go. I couldn’t.
IT WAS THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. I COULD NOT LET THIS GO!
WE ARE TALKING ABOUT BASEBALL PARK CHEESE NACHOS!
My fixation was momentarily halted as my favorite player was in the on-deck circle. A home run would change my mood.
Suddenly, my younger son needed to go to the restroom. He said he could not wait. Seriously. Wait until this next guy bats. That was cruel enough, but then the opposing team decided to change pitchers. Apparently, the opposing manager could not wait either. My son was hopping up and down. It was time to go.
I had flashbacks of a similar incident years ago when I was a kid. My parents took me on a dream trip to see my first pro baseball game. My little brothers and two cousins completed the travel squad.
We went to Kansas City to see the Royals play the world champion New York Yankees. This was the Bronx Bombers, one of the legendary dream teams. We sat in the right field area, close to the outfielders. The homerun sluggers, Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle were almost close enough to touch. Future Hall of Fame pitcher, Whitey Ford, was on the mound and my older cousin Jimmy’s favorite player, Yogi Berra, was the catcher.
The game went into extra innings, The score remained tied as the tenth inning ended. My younger brother, Bill, needed to go to the bathroom. Jimmy offered to take him. I am not exactly sure about the details of their delay. Dad always thought Bill moved kinda slow. Mom said he was just not ever in a hurry to get anywhere, thus the nickname, “Cool Breeze.”
I do vividly recall what happened during their absence. Yogi Berra hit a home run over the right field fence which landed very close to us. I still remember Jimmy’s face when they returned and he asked, “What happened? I was helping Bill buckle his belt. (Did I mention “slow”?) I heard the crack of the bat and the loud cheers.”
Oh, no big deal. Your favorite player blasted a game-winning home run. The ball landed right near where you had been sitting. You would have caught the Yogi moon shot. Jimmy took the news like a major leaguer. It was Big League Heartbreak.
Sorry, Jimmy. I imagine this major disappointment contributed to Jimmy eventually switching his loyalty to the San Francisco Giants. A once in a lifetime experience was missed because a younger relative had bad timing.
The restroom trip with my son was not the best timing. However, it did not include a missed home run by my favorite player. He struck out while we were away.
THE IMPORTANT EVENT WAS THE SURPRISE DISCOVERY OF THE MISSING CHEESE NACHOS, UNEATEN BY THE RUDE FAN TO MY LEFT.
THE CHEESE NACHOS MAGICALLY REAPEARED WHEN I ROSE FROM MY SEAT TO TAKE MY SON TO THE RESTROOM.
My wife tried to quietly get my attention. She kept pointing at me. Then shouting my name. Now that we have everyone’s attention, “What?”
Miss Marple had solved the mystery. This feline detective had unraveled the case. The super sleuth could not control her laughter as she continued to point in my direction.
MY BLUE SHORTS WERE COVERED IN CHEESE NACHOS!
Yep, I sat down on the missing cheese nachos. They were stuck to the backside of my blue shorts!
Oh, it was quite the comical sight for all the spectators as I walked up the stadium steps. I dripped nachos and cheese sauce all the way. It was a real crowd pleaser. It brought new meaning to the seventh inning stretch. I am surprised the incident was not caught on the video Jumbotron.
The crowd entertainment was not over. I spent the next inning standing in the restroom area in my underwear as I washed out my shorts in the sink. Yes, several people wish they could erase that image from their memory bank. Primarily, me. The blow dryer was helpful for this occasion.
My son was extremely embarrassed. He acted as if he did not know me.
I tried to ignore the looks and the laughter from the exiting crowd of onlookers. Somehow, Mr. I Don’t Like to Talk to Anyone felt the need to explain to people what I was doing. “Sat on some cheese nachos. Just washing them off.”
Guys started handing me their mustard-stained T-shirts as if I were the men’s room attendant. The jeers echoed through the place, “Caminiti is a weenie.”
I guess each of you has misplaced something at one time or another. It can be frustrating not to find the object where you are sure you placed it. You always put it there. Somebody moved it. Someone hid it from you. Hey, it could be worse! At least, you can keep your pants on!
Have you ever lost your Love First button? Maybe, you were engaged in some favorite activity when the interruption came. Perhaps you were in the last stages of finishing a project or solving a problem when the other person insisted on your attention. Or maybe you just wanted to finish the movie.
In some moments, our well-intentioned love first and love most plans suddenly disappear from view. Our frustration grows as no one helps us. The other persons are more interested in getting their way or having their say.
SO, YOU GIVE UP THE PLAN TO LOVE FIRST AND LOVE MOST. INSTEAD, YOU BLAME OTHERS FOR THE MISSING LINK. THAT USUSALLY ENDS UP IN A MESSY SITUATION.
Egg on the face has a similar result to sitting on cheese nachos. Everyone notices. Embarrassment and hurt are not good buddies. Negative attitudes and angry words are never the best way to start the parade.
We live in a culture of chronic complainers. There is always something to grumble and gripe about. The line is too long. The traffic is so congested. The gas prices are too high. The fast food is so bad. The ice cream serving size is too small. The day is too hot; Walmart is too crowded. The concert fan in front of us thinks we bought tickets to watch her dance and sing.
And would someone please tell that poor sucker that he has cheese nachos dripping from his blue shorts?
Here is a Love First classic for all of us looking for the cheese nachos. It comes right out of the #1 Textbook. Do all things without grumbling or complaining. Do not have a negative attitude and do not use negative words. In ALL things.
Love expresses gratitude and grace. Gratitude is thankfulness for all the many God-given cheese nachos blessings we tend to forget about. Grace is the God-given desire and power to love first and love most in ALL things…even missing cheese nachos.
I WISH I SPENT AS MUCH TIME IN MY LIFE COUNTING MY BLESSINGS AS I HAVE SEARCHING AND BLAMING OTHERS FOR THE THINGS I DO NOT HAVE OR LOST…LIKE MY MISSING CHEESE NACHOS.
I am making progress. I truly desire to make a positive impact in this life. If that is my goal in ALL things, then I need to lose the negative attitude and words.
I want to expand my Love First and Love Most vocabulary. I am praying that gratitude and grace replace my grumbling and complaints.
“Play Ball!” Our family has heard that shout many times throughout the years. I can assure you that each season, someone remembers to shout, “Where are my cheese nachos?”
I confess I remain a little sensitive to the subject. I have nightmares about trips to the ballpark concession stand. The server looks at me and asks, “Would you like some cheese on your blue shorts? With chili or jalapenos?”
‘Cause it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out At the old ballgame.
LOVE FIRST...LOVE MOST 