Your Anniversary Present

Yes, Happy Anniversary, Blog Brother. So what's been keeping me up nights, other than Pedro's toe and the fact that our rotation's old and fretting that Willie might actually hit Lo Duca second? It's what anniversary gift to get you.

Finally I thought of the perfect thing and went down to the Baseball Store.

“I want to get a no-hitter for my friend and Blog Brother,” I said. “He's never seen one — well, not one that mattered.”

“No problem,” said the clerk. He typed for a moment, then looked puzzled.

“Did you say you're a Mets fan?” he asked. “Huh. Sorry, my computer system doesn't seem to have a SKU for METS NO-HITTER.”

“OK,” I said, not particularly surprised. “Wow. How about that big shiny World Championship over there on the wall?”

The clerk sized me up for a bit. I could tell he was wondering if this scruffy old bald guy could really pay for it. Then he typed some more.

“We're not stocking that right now,” he said. “That's just a floor model.”

“But you could get a new one, couldn't you?” I asked. “I know it would make my Blog Brother pretty happy.”

“There's a waiting list,” the clerk said, and when I looked dubious he pointed to his monitor. I took a peek.

“RED SOX? They just got one! WHITE SOX? They did too! What gives? YANKEES? They've got like millions of them, and they don't even really care anymore, the spoiled weasels. DEVIL RAYS? Yeah right, like that check will clear. CUBS? Well, OK, it's been a while, but they don't deserve one.”

“Do you want a spot on the waiting list or not?” the clerk said. “Sometimes things happen and people drop off of it.”

“I want one, but I need something more tangible. How about a new stadium?”

“We don't have those in yet,” the clerk said. “Check back in a couple of weeks.”

“You've been saying that for years,” I complained.

“Couple of weeks.”

And now I was stymied. I looked around the room. There was another bunch of new uniforms in garish, horrible colors, but I didn't think you'd like those. There were escalator repair kits, but a sign warned the installation was strictly DIY, which kind of frightened me. There was a CD of ballpark hits, but it was crap like “The Best” and “Lazy Mary” that I couldn't imagine anybody would want to hear more than they had to.

“Sir, there's a line,” said the clerk.

“What's the '162' package?” I asked.

“You get 162 games, plus a certain number of extra innings at the discretion of the Department of Fate,” the clerk said.

“Are they good games?” I asked, because I had friends in Detroit and Kansas City and Pittsburgh and other outposts who'd bought this plan and wound up enduring it more than enjoying it.

“We guarantee some very good ones and even a few unforgettable ones,” the clerk said.

“Like what?” I asked.

The clerk shook his head. “Further details only available upon purchase.”

“But they're not all good games, are they?” I asked. (I've been coming to this store for a fair number of years now, and I'm getting wise to its tricks.)

“Of course not,” the clerk said. “That's the way it goes.”

“Just 162?” I asked.

“There are March diagnostic tests that some people enjoy watching,” the clerk said. “And the Department of Fate may extend the subscription, certain conditions being met over the first 162.”

“Extend to what? I asked. “What are we talking? 163? 165? 167? 181?”

“Yes,” the clerk said, smiling mysteriously.

“I don't know,” I said. “I got this for my Blog Brother last year for us to watch and comment on, and there weren't any extra games and we barely won more than half of the basic package.”

“And did you enjoy it?” the clerk asked.

“Yes. Why, yes I did. I enjoyed the hell out of it, in fact. OK, I'm in. Sign me up. And while we're at it, put me on the World Championship waiting list, and put me down for a new stadium too. And I want to talk to the manager about that missing SKU.”

“Sure thing, sir. Enjoy your 162 package.”

“I will. I'm pretty sure Greg will too. In fact, I can't wait until we get to rip this thing open.”