A couple of months ago I wrote a piece about the 1986 Mets. It was a good year for us since we won the World Series. I also wrote about my ill-fated Keith Hernandez Starting Lineup action figure and his untimely demise. I thought that by sending Keith a copy of this article I would get some sort of response but, alas, it was not in the cards for me to meet Keith this year and that is okay. As I write this column, my beloved Mets are doing really well, but that is all I will say about that because I don’t want to jinx them (even though husband #1 is all about the jinx because he is a Yankees fan).

A few weeks ago, son #1 came home for his day off from camp. His agenda included laundry and a Mets game. Turns out I played a major role in both of these items as I was the one to be doing the laundry, and then I was the one to be driving him to the game. As I have mentioned in past columns, if my boys want me to accompany them to a sporting event, a dentist appointment, a haircut, I am there because there will come a day when I will not be asked to do anything with them, so this big momma takes advantage every chance she gets. The game started at noon so, of course, we had to be on the road at 10 a.m. because a game isn’t really a game unless you are there for batting practice, even if it is 96 degrees in the shade. So we got to Citi Field in record time and son #1 went scouting for autographs and mom #1 went scouting for reasonably priced alcoholic beverages. (Don’t worry, I didn’t buy any. They were $12 a cocktail and if I don’t have a smartphone, I certainly don’t have $12 to spend on a drink I can make at home for a quarter of that price.) So I just walked around, signed up for my free soda as a “designated driver” and looked around for any other giveaways. Son #1 was successful in getting some autographs and some cute selfies with Curtis Granderson. So far, so good.

I was carrying the knapsack that had the drinks in it and every so often, son #1 gave me something else to hold, and I would just put it in the bag. Hey moms, did you ever notice that no matter what size bag you are carrying, it always has room for more and more stuff? Rain ponchos? Sure. Baseball glove? Sure. Mets magazine? Sure. Life size Mr. Met? Sure. There is room for everything. And we are the only ones who hold the bag. Heaven forbid our precious angels carry anything themselves.

So the game finally starts and son #1 and I are like two kids in a candy store. Our team is playing great. We are hitting and scoring and then the following words were uttered out loud: “Wow, this game is going really fast, we should be home really early.” Sound the alarm folks. It’s like when you are driving on the FDR and traffic is moving really well and some idiot has to say, “Wow, there is no traffic.” Yup, we know how that scenario turns out. A minyan is missed, tears are shed…you know the drill. Never say those things out loud, ever. You can think it, you can pray for it to happen, but once the words come out of your mouth, all bets are off.

Yup, the game is moving right along, we are winning 7-5, it is the top of the ninth inning with two strikes and two outs, for those of you who do not follow baseball, this is the ideal place to be in—one strike away from winning the game. And then the skies opened up and rain, the kind which legendary weather forecasts are made of, started coming down. Lighting and thunder were in full force and children were crying and screaming. Son #1 looked at me and said, “You know we are staying until it’s over, right?” Of course I know that. And I couldn’t be more excited! Now, where did I leave that valium?

Rain delay over, still top of the ninth with two strikes and two outs, I got my shoes on ready to get out of the very wet stadium (another rookie mistake) and the guy from the other team hits a three-run home run and now we are losing. Wait, it gets better! And then it starts to pour again and we are in another rain delay! Woo hoo!!

I love my son—the boy who made me a mommy. And I loved him even more when he looked at me with his sparkling blue eyes and said, “OK, we can go now.” Bless you, child. I guess I did something right. Looking forward to our next game together….

Banji Ganchrow has been to way too many baseball games in her life but would still prefer that to spending any time in an American Girl Doll store.

By Banji Latkin Ganchrow