The seats we normally have at Dodger games are on the first base side close-ish to home plate. The view is great but they are right in prime foul ball territory. I tell everyone around me that if one comes my way to just leap in front of me and save me from being killed. I don't care about catching a ball. I care about breaking something. I am terrified of hard, fast flying objects rocketing towards my head. And those things come crazy fast. Well, everyone around me failed last night because Matt Kemp (I think. It's all a blur.) hit one back and it landed on the steps right in front of me and then bounced up and hit my knee. And then the kid who was in front of me got the ball. I got hit by a foul ball, you guys! Dad explained that since it hit me but I didn't catch it the error goes to me. Which is a little baseball humor for you.
But I got a Dodger Dog and I was wearing my new Dodger shirt and the night was cool and breezy. A bruised knee is a small price to pay for heaven.
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