The ball was slicing through the air too quickly to begin its descent. It was like a missle, not climbing too high, just flying, almost too fast to see, until it dropped into a forest of hands, almost clearing the back rail, almost slipping into the salty bay water. As Barry swatted at it, a hundred flashbulbs popped like stars all over the stands. They say that once the ball strikes his bat, you just know if it’s going to be a home run, and last night I realized that in this case, it was true. Everyone knew, and at the crack of the wood on the ball, everyone leapt to their feet and cheered.

Ert took me to the game last night, a 7-1 thrashing of the Diamondbacks. We sat in the left field bleachers, near where Barry Bonds stands cooly in the outfield, sometimes with his arms folded, sometimes with his hands on his knees, leaning forward. It was hard to see much from where we sat — like pitch locations and so on — but it was still awesome and fun.

In the past few ballgames I have been to, I have noticed a disturbing trend. People are trying to start “the wave.” I think the people doing this are too young to remember the first wave of the wave, and how it soon fell out of fashion. FOR BEING LAME. Hey, how about we watch the game instead of blocking the view for people who are at the ballpark to see the players? The eighties are over!

There was a group of yuppie-types a few rows down from us who spent most of the game scarfing down donuts and beer and talking amongst themselves. One of them stood up and announced to the section that they planned to “start the wave” and we should all join in. I was very tempted to ask her to sit down so I could watch the current at-bat, but of course I didn’t. One, two, three, they all stand up and hoot like idiots. Of course the only ones in the next section over who carried it along were the little kids. They don’t know any better.

Seriously, no one thinks this thing is cool anymore, do they? And I say this as a person who grew up in the city where the wave was (allegedly) INVENTED. Or at least where it gained its first notoriety in the United States: at a UW Huskies football game in 1981.

Anyway. I took the N to Brian’s after the game. The Sunset was thick and spooky with heavy mist. At 2nd ave, the train bumped and lurched, ground to a halt, then crept along slowly and silently for another five blocks before at last running out of reserve power. The radio in the front of the train blared that there was no power between 2nd and 19th aves. I got off the train and walked.

Brian met me at 12th and Judah, with his fresh haircut and sweet new shoes. We walked to his house through the cold summer fog. The streetlights glowed like big orange halos.