The most important thing on my mind this week is our upcoming first wedding anniversary.
As I look back on the year, I realize just how lucky I am to have found Elizabeth. There are many examples I could give you as to reasons why, but my favorite is the mangagement.
You’ve never heard that term before? It’s simple really. It’s when a woman comes up with a fancy way to propose to her man. Sometimes it’s before the man has proposed, and sometimes it’s after.
In my case, it was after.
One day, Elizabeth came across this term on the Internet, and from that moment I kept teasing her about it, asking “Where’s my mangagement?” This went on for a while. At one point, she put my ring on a carrot and handed it to me. I refused it. I had gone to great lengths to make her day special and felt she could put a little more effort into it than slipping a ring on a vegetable.
I was joking of course. I didn’t really need anything. Just having Liz say yes to my proposal was enough. But I do like to tease, and so I did. Often.
And Liz answered, stepping up her game. Bigtime.
Unaware of what was to come, we went to a Dbacks game. Which was nothing unusual for us. I think we went to forty games that year, including three out of state. Occasionally we’d switch up who bought the tickets, and that night she had volunteered. And the seats, well, she couldn’t have done any better; front row behind the dugout!
Now, these seats were something extra special for me and embarrassing for Liz at the same time. Why? Well, I’m from Boston, and that makes me a Masshole, which means I was born with the right to heckle any ballplayer who flat out sucks that day. Period. End of argument.
It was courageous of Liz to sit that close to the ball players. Apparently, she’ll do anything for love.
I’ve gotten my fair share of dirty looks from fans in Arizona over the years. They just don’t understand us Bostonians. But I’ve learned to tone it down. A bit. What I mean by that is, I cut out the serious swears. People are too sensitive nowadays. Don’t ever bring your kid to a ballgame in Beantown if you’re one of them.
But I’ve digressed, and apologize.
Now, around the fifth inning the Dbacks mascot, Baxter jumps on top of the dugout. Nothing unusual. Acting silly and getting the crowd excited is his job. Only this time, he stops before me and points down, making a big deal about a baseball in his hand.
Everyone around is staring at me now, and even though I enjoy heckling, I really don’t like attention. Not this kind. So, Baxter hands me the ball, which is in a clear plastic box. I open it and take it out and read what’s written on it.
Jonathan forever will never be long enough to be in your arms I love you
The skin on my face was burning, and I could feel sweat dripping from my armpits. I wanted to crawl under my seat and hide.
The baseball was precut, so I pried it open and found my ring inside. Baxter got the crowd all riled up once more, and I about died of embarrassment.
Later that night…clears throat…never mind.
Come to find out, Liz had been making secret trips to Chase Field meeting with the Dbacks organization to set this all up. I’ll never forget that evening, and I wouldn’t trade my girl for anything. Not even for a whole bushel of carrots with rings on ’em.