Batter Up! Padres vs. Dodgers

Three seasons ago, I wrote this ditty on the first day of baseball in San Diego. Mt Rabbi read it and told me I would become a great writer. I've updated "Batter Up" for today's game. 

                                 "Batter Up" (c) George Garrett 2012

   It is a day game in beautiful San Diego. I feel like singing. Yesterday I was hungry for love, and now satisfied, I need to grab a  some hot dogs and buns at Ralph's, between First and Front Streets.   
    Baseball season begins today, and everything is going my way. Its a Thursday day game. The night before, I spent it with the love of my life at her palace in Rancho Palos Verdes, where on a clear day you can see Catalina from her majestic hill-side house.  
     At one time, Juan Dominguez received a land grant to the above section of land due to his achievement as a distinguished Spanish soldier. Palos Verdes is an island to itself. Even the American author Mr. Nathaniel Hawthorne hold the right-of-way to this island off of the beaten path. It was once home to Marine Land of the Pacific. 
     The Japanese could not conquer it in World War 2, so as of late, have bought up a good portion of this back lot of Los Angeles. Whenever one sees a bunch of baseball caps walking in a row, you know its the Japanese. 
I quit the downtown San Diego "Y" and walk towards G street for Ralph's Market.   Love is in the Spring air. Blooming  flowers are out showing off their radiant colors. I have a hop to my step, but a middle aged man cuts me off. He wears a Padre t-shirt. His long hair hides the baseball cap. His pants barely hide his bottom. 
   I ask a Padre shirt "what time the game begins." Mr. Beer Belly ignores me at first. Booze is on his breath. 
   "Has baseball season begun?" 
   "Yes sir, it is an afternoon game. I need to be there for batter's practice and buy more suds. The Padres are playing the Dodgers today." 
    Mr Suds zigzags ahead of me and crosses against a red light at G and Union Street. Flashy cars zip at a fast clip on their way to the stadium. Their life depends on it! Each car tries to out-muscle the other. I walk to Ralph's and cross Front Street. Mr.Toothless Beany runs into me, on purpose. Can you tell me where...?" 
    I cut him off while he begs. I ignore him and enter Ralph's. What he wants is money. I should have known better than to have dressed up. I look too good. Several kids leave Ralph's and carry cases of beer. Baseball season gives fans the rights of spring and to be dazzled by baseball and booze. 
    I enter the old store and see some beautiful flowers. I feel like buying a bunch of Easter Lilly's for my girlfriend but she lives far away. I pick up a large can of Albacore tuna along with a small can of sardines and bottle of fresh pulp orange juice. I buy a Ace comb, leave and sit in front of a coffee shop that faces the Horton Center and Nordstrom's. 
    Sitting next to the corner light, a cute young gal and boy sit with their dog. Their cardboard sign reads, "Needs money to buy Easter eggs." She looks too young to ask for a handout. She produces a radiant smile highlighted  with the dimples on her cheek. Neither wear long hair, but do have tattoos on their arms. I drink a few swigs of my sweet orange juice and watch an African American place his hands into a corner trash can. His hands return empty. 
    I look at the sky and smell the blooming spring flowers. Everyone is stocking up at Ralph's and readying for Easter Sunday. The contrast between the homeless and the dapper looking fans disturb me. I am one of ninety-nine percent who has enough money for food and lodging but not one cent more.
   My game starts on Friday night, the first night of Passover. No ball games for me. My stadium is a small shul buttressed up to a Chinese laundry and across from the Horton Hotel My idol is not baseball but God. His presence brings more joy than hitting a grand slam.
   I gulp down more orange juice and begin my walk through God's Garden of San Diego.