by Brian Mihok
My wife and I used to take the only subway line in Buffalo to see the Bisons play, who at the time were a farm team affiliate of the New York Mets. Minor League Baseball is a real treat. One year we went to a game on May 4th and halfway through the game, Darth Vader and some storm troopers murdered a few Jedi right there on the field. We didn’t know this would happen. It was an extra treat, a science fiction twist to the evening we couldn’t have imagined.
Minor League Baseball is a real treat.
After the game we took the subway back up, walked the few blocks home, and moved on with life. We attended probably eight or 10 games that summer. The next year we made sure to buy a pair of buy tickets early in the season because we were eager to be done with winter. The frigid wind off Lake Erie is the penance for the cool summer breeze it reverts to in the warmer months. We attended the game via our usual route, and to our surprise the same imperial scene was played out on the field mid-game. We had unknowingly bought tickets for another May 4th. What a coincidence, we thought. After the game though we went on with life. That summer we attended so many games because Minor League Baseball is a real treat.
We ate garlic fries and watched players play their hearts out hoping to make an impression on people we didn’t know, scouts scattered in the stands.
That following winter was long and bitterly cold, and as spring rolled around we were excited for the temperatures to finally rise, for people to mow their lawns, to drag our feet over the cement and smile into a cool breeze, and to catch a few ball games. I went online and bought a pair of tickets a month into the season. Our hearts were delighted. Baseball. Sun. Warmth. Activity.
We took the subway the handful of stops and got off at the stadium, a nice AAA coliseum downtown. We ate garlic fries and watched players play their hearts out hoping to make an impression on people we didn’t know, scouts scattered in the stands. Around the sixth inning the PA announcer came on to tell us there would be a special presentation. Then Darth Vader came out with his crew. Lives were lost. It was a dark day for the Rebellion. We couldn’t believe it, sitting there in our field seats. We laughed. We shook our heads. After the game, though, we stumbled out of the stadium along with everyone else, into the tight downtown streets and over to the aboveground subway stop. We simply went on with life, hoping to get to so many more games that summer. Tickets were cheap, after all, and Minor League Baseball is a real treat.
BRIAN MIHOK is a writer, editor, and filmmaker. His work has appeared in Fast Company, The Disconnect, Publishing Genius, Vol 1 Brooklyn, and elsewhere. His novel, The Quantum Manual of Style, was released in 2013. He edits matchbook, an online literary magazine. His latest short film, Three Trees (In Three Parts), was released in 2018. Visit his website to learn more about his work.