Near Perfection

In 2003, when we were in Wales and England, we became interested in a television program called "The Big Read." The UK was identifying its 200 most beloved books, and would select the top beloved books. We were in town for the penultimate and ultimate night of the television program. On returning home, I decided that I would read all 200 books on The Big Read list. This was a nice change in my reading habit because in the 20 years prior to undertaking this project, I had read mostly non-fiction.

My enthusiasm for this project and waned in and out--but I am still plowing ahead. I have read some good stuff that I would not have read--"Trainspotting," Thomas Hardy, and "A Fine Balance." I have read some awful stuff--Flowers in The Attic comes to mind. And I have read some stupid stuff--mediocre kids books.

Last night, Dorey had a female male bashing group in our house, so I was relegated to the upstairs bedroom. (Actually, it was a book reading group, but every time I listened, they were bashing males. I had read the book they were discussing, "The Woman In White", and didn't think that it lent itself to so much hating on those who produce the small gametes. I pulled out one of the mediocre kid's books--"Bad Girls" by Jacqueline Wilson. I put the Giant's game on the tube, and sat down and read the book, keeping half an eye on the game.

I sort of knew that the Giants' pitcher, Jonathan Sanchez, was pitching well. I did not realize how well. At the end of the seventh inning, I looked at the line. It said that the Padres had no hits to that point. I figured that I better not jink Mr. Sanchez, so I kept reading. I finished "Bad Girls" by the end of the top of the Eighth Inning. Still Mr. Sanchez had not given up a hit.

The Giants scored a couple runs in the bottom of the eighth, and Mr. Sanchez took the mound for the ninth. At this point, I incurred the wrath of Dorey's group by calling downstairs to Christian, who was watching tv downstairs. "Are you watching the game?" I yelled. Yeah. I returned to my post.

Sanchez stuck the first batter out. The second hitter smashed the ball. I thought for certain that it was a home run. But PacBell Park, or whatever it is called these days, has a deep center field. Aaron Rowland went back and caught the ball, smashing into the fence.

The next batter was the 28th batter that Sanchez faced. Only one batter had reached base, on an error by the third baseman. The 28th batter of the evening showed bunt on the first pitch--a ball. Pretty cheap, the crowd said to the batter by booing. Pretty cheap, said I to the tv. Even the ump must have thought, "Pretty cheap," as the batter did not get any calls in the at bat. The next pitch was a borderline at best strike. Strike the ump called. The hitter fouled off the next pitch. The next pitch was a slider. I think it was a ball, but that it ran back over the strikezone area by the time it hit the catcher's glove. The catcher held the pitch giving the ump a long time to make his call. The ump, knowing it was a moment to shine, step back and called it a strike. The batter jumped in disbelief. The fans went crazy.

I left my place of hiding and wandered through the gals and met Christian. We cheered. I went and told the women that Jonathan Sanchez had thrown a no-hitter. I kissed Dorey. After all, Mr. Sanchez could not have done it without me. I was thrown back upstairs.

Anyway, the stats: Yesterday, I walked 11,160 steps. As of this moment, 9:40 a.m. on Saturday, July 11, 2009, I have walked 187,011 steps in 16 days.