I had never been to Oracle Park, San Francisco, home of the Giants. Which, for those of you in the UK and elsewhere, is this city’s baseball team. Here, let me digress to say that I am somewhat “elsewhere” myself when it comes to baseball. I grew up in an isolated desert setting with no neighbors, a disturbed household which included one European doctor who had no real idea of what baseball was, let alone how to play it. But that’s history. Yesterday, I made my own history by finally getting to our local ballpark with one of Jane’s grandsons. And I had a blast. Oracle Park, being a modern design, was built for ADA access. The wheelchair spaces are numerous, roomy, provide a marvelous view of the action.

As for the latter, it was far enough away to challenge me at times. But it may have challenged everyone. Seeing a small white ball moving at 90 miles an hour is virtually impossible, even against a dark green backdrop. Still, my eyes adjusted, and I could probably see as much as anyone. And being something of a 77-year-old newcomer to the experience, I found it frequently astonishing. Who could catch something flying off a wooden stick a good 50 meters in the air and 100 meters from its point of origin?

Let me also mention that all of this occurs literally at the edge of San Francisco Bay. In fact, people in small boats sit in the Bay water by the stadium hoping to catch an authentic flyball. On this particular day, it would have been wonderful to join them. San Francisco was having one of those rare truly hot days. The temperature exceeded 80°F., i.e., 26°C. And to put this in perspective, I overheard others in the ballpark crowd talk about regional weather. One man had driven from Chico, an inland California town, where the temperature was 112°F/42°C. Another described recent days in Redding, California, another hundred miles north, which had been 119°F./48°C. So, let us not complain.

Unless we have a damaged autonomic nervous system, which gives us the right to yell and scream. Which I didn’t, to be clear, but after spending several hours in the direct sun, I did retreat to the shade. Just behind the seating area there is a large concourse, a place where food and beverage are on sale. Shade is abundant. And there are also several TV screens. I extended my footrests, kicked back, as it were, and tried to make sense of the game.

Problem is, the heat gets to me in some fundamental and pervasive way. It addles my brain. So, there I was in the shade, watching a TV version of what I could have seen in real life. And not really making sense of the game as much as making sense of life itself. As I say, heat gets to me. The Giants lost, by the way. The Toronto Blue Jays whooped them handily.

No joy in Mudville, but I had had a great time.