Anyway, I had lured him there with the promise of carousel and ferris wheel rides, sugary snacks and the like. The game itself did not interest him much. So, we sat there in the front row in right field behind Magglio, and watched all of one and a half innings before my son starts campaigning for the ferris wheel. Now, when I'm at the game, I'm all business--normally. I keep score, do not leave my seat except in emergency (to haul it to the ladies'), and then only when the opposition is batting. But I resolved to lighten up for this game, so I told my son that we could go to the carousel after Magglio's at bat (he was leading off the bottom of the second). Well, I was happy we stayed for it, because he promptly jacked one out of the park to the opposite field (but to the right of us). Satisfied, I proceeded to escort the happy kid to the ferris wheel.
We got on the thing with a dad and his little guy. The ride starts going, the dad and I began chatting, and then we hear all kinds of cheering. Imprisoned in the whirling baseball, we just know we're missing it, big-time. The cheers keep coming, and then I hear Magglio's walk-up song--Mirala. So we know they batted around. Suddenly, a sustained, raucous cheer blasts out of the stadium. Yeah, it was the day Ordóñez hit two home runs in one inning, and there we were, trapped on the flyball ferris wheel. We scored a total of eight runs that inning, and I saw only that first one.
I took it all in stride, laughing (to keep from crying) as we walked back to our seats. Round about every other inning, we had to leave again for snow cones, cool drinks, carousel rides, trips to the Tiger shop--even heat breaks in front of the little cooling fans.
You know what, though? It's a great memory and I'll never forget what I was doing the day Magglio swatted two in one inning (democratically, it was one to right and one to left), joining Al Kaline as the only other Tiger to do so in club history.