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| https://www.upi.com/Chicago-police-to-mark-1968-riots/57601245261751/ |
"Come on Dogman" I plead, "you promised to go to the rally if I went to that game."
"That was before the Black Panthers arrived and Mayor Daley called in the National Guard" he states.
"We need a show of force for McCarthy" I reason about the anti-war candidate at the Democratic National Convention. "A straight white guy in uniform will add to the cause."
"Not if he's bleeding on the street" he whines.
"You weren't afraid of those Giants you called the new murderer's row" I counter.
"Bonds, Mays, McCovey, and Jim Ray Hart are only out to kill opposing pitchers."
"Listen mister, I endured three hours of adult men chasing a little ball on my birthday. You're coming to Lincoln Park."
__________
"Happy eighteenth" Dogman smiled, reaching into his chest pocket and passing me a ticket as he pulled the Park Service Jeep into the lot at Candlestick Park at sunset.
To my raised eyebrows he added "the Giants and Cardinals are vying for first place, and Marichal versus Gibson is the dual of the decade in the year of the pitcher."
To my frown he continued "and this little ticket comes with one vendor per inning - hot dog, lemon ice, peanuts, popcorn, Cracker Jacks, cotton candy, ice cream."
He had me at lemon ice but I played along by shaking my head no with each one until he pleaded "Karma, you're legal today. Can't we celebrate with a Lucky Lager?"
"Beer here" boomed a potbellied vendor carrying a strapped cart down the steep aisle of the upper deck as the game began.
"Two here" called Dogman waving a ten dollar bill, and the guy passed two overflowing cups down the row of helping hands as the cash was passed back.
"So this is why you like baseball" I smiled, peeling open the plastic wrap and slurping the sweet foam before taking a swig of the bitter brew.
"Here's to first place" he toasted to my clueless but eager raising of the cup.
"The game is flying by with all these strikeouts" narrated Dogman as he waved down the vendor for our second Lucky.
I had no idea what he meant but was enjoying the expanse of green under the bright lights, though the little men were getting blurry down there.
"That incoming wind will keep the ball in the park" he explained as I polished off the beer and snuggled into his side in the sudden chill.
"Hey sleepy head" he laughed, jostling me awake as others streamed down the aisle to call it a night after the scoreless seventh inning. "We're going down to the box seats."
I stumbled behind him down several ramps and back up another until we emerged right behind home plate. He slipped two five dollar bills to an usher blocking the way and we were led down to two empty seats next to an older couple smiling up at us from under their blanket.
"Hi Sweetie, share a little of our warmth" commanded the woman in a southern drawl while proffering a corner of the covers.
"Thanks" I managed as I snuggled up to her and drifted off again.
"Walk in beauty, run in freedom" was the last thing I thought I heard her say before being called out on strikes.
__________
The crowd of hippies surges around the band as a line of helmeted policemen wielding clubs encircles the area.
"Oh shit" moans Dogman when the sound cuts off and the police line starts to move slowly in.
"Here comes Hoffman with the stage" Blaine exclaims as the crowd turns toward a tractor trailer rolling down Clark Street and coming to a stop at the park entrance.
The cops on that side break the line and move toward the flatbed as we escort the band and their equipment toward the truck.
"Get the fuck out, pig" screams a shirtless dude at Dogman as a group of young guys holding rocks and sticks block our way.
"He cool" calls our rastaman friend Van Johnson appearing from nowhere to stand between us.
"Groovy" mutters the angry guy before calling to his group "go get the real pigs!"
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