Flipping the Bird

Let me preface this story by saying that I do not endorse or condone flipping someone the bird. I’ve rarely done it myself. I find myself wanting to flip the bird from time to time, but I also fantasize about jumping on the hood of someone’s car and yelling when they’ve pulled into a pedestrian cross walk during a red light. I must draw lines. But what happens when you want to flip a bird, yes A BIRD, the bird? Well, today I found out.

Let me double preface by saying that I’m a sports fan. Not huge, but fairly large. I’d take a night at a ballpark over a trip to the theater most any day…unless of course, it’s raining, or really hot, or cold, or extremely sunny - I burn quite easily, you know. My favorite sport to watch is baseball. In high school I’d sneak up to the announcer’s booth during home baseball games and take over the mic to announce my favorite player‘s name, one Jeremiah Dugger, in my best announcer voice. I secretly wondered what it would be like to announce for my favorite major league team, the St. Louis Cardinals. I’m certain that if I wanted it bad enough, it would have happened. I’m naïve like that…thinking that anything is possible, with the justification that if something has been done, it can be done, and I can do it. But I digress.

You can imagine my delight when I found out that one of my office’s pro-bono clients had David Eckstein (or Little Davie Eckstein, as I like to call him) as a spokesperson. I was even more delighted to learn that he would be at an event that I was invited to. I made it my mission to have him sign something, anything for my nephew who will undoubtedly have a Cardinals room someday - you know, once he’s done with the whole breastfeeding and diapers thing. It would be the perfect Father’s Day gift for my brother-in-law, for whom we’d thrown a surprise 30th birthday party for at Busch Stadium last year (I got him a personalized jersey with the number 30 on the back…because I’m the best sister EVER). Yes. How hard could it be? Just me, David Eckstein, about 100 other people, a baseball and a Sharpie.

The only problem was that after hours of waiting, for whatever reason, David never came. Sure, I was disappointed. I’d eaten a hot dog, which I really don’t like much due to the innate mystery of their conception, and everything while I’d waited for his arrival. But alas, the elevator doors opened time and time again and the closest thing to David Eckstein were a series of posters bearing his likeness on the walls around me. A bright spot came when it was rumored that another famed Cardinals favorite had indeed arrived. The lovable, rambunctious Fred Bird, that is.

“So it’s not the 2006 World Series MVP, who cares. Fred Bird’s likeable, adorable and very kid-friendly, that is, when he’s not pretending to bite the heads off of children and adults alike,” I thought to myself. “I’ll get his autograph and get a Fred Bird Build-A-Bear at the next game - together they’ll make for a wonderful shelf display and I’ll still be a hero.”

So here I am, 24 going on 45, accosting a giant stuffed bird in hopes of landing his John Hancock. I found my opening when Fred was visibly distraught over someone handing him a Bic pen for use in signing a stuffed version of himself. As he cast the pen down to the floor, I seized the opportunity by quickly grabbing the Sharpie that I’d brought and lovingly presenting it to his Birdness. Then, while he was signing that, I grabbed the baseball that I’d brought and asked for his signature on it. He obliged by signing it on my head. I was flattered and slightly giddy.

As he finished, I turned around to reclaim the stitched masterpiece when he leaned downward. “What’s he doing,” I thought. “Can he not see through the netting - does he think I’ve shrunk.” Before I could get a word out, he handed my ball - or should I say, my nephew’s ball - to a nearby child who was thrilled with her luck. I leaned down to the child, put my hand on the ball and said “wow, did Fred Bird just give you a ball?” I wanted to take it from her pretty badly, but for the love of all things fair and right in the world, I couldn’t.

I walked back to where I’d started. My colleagues had seen the series of events, and were amused with what had happened. I secretly wondered if he’d done it on purpose and will likely never know for sure. But even the thought of such an injustice made me long to be a meaner person that I am. I yelled “hey, Fred” and when his feathered head turned my way, I flipped him the bird.

OK, I didn’t flip him the bird, but I wanted to. Can you imagine the repercussions of displaying such an act in mixed company? I’m shocked that you even for a second believed that I would do such a thing (batting eyes). Instead of acting in an unlikable way, I retold the story multiple times to my colleagues, reliving each moment. Then, I collected the empty ball display case that I’d brought and made my way back to my belongings.

I’m not sure how impressed my brother-in-law will be with an empty case to one day display in his son’s room, but I may give it to him anyway. After all, it comes with a story about the day that Aunt Lorie had an overwhelming desire to flip a bird the bird.