I Am The Heavy Artillery: Go Greene!

As a valued Cincinnati Reds season ticket member, the Reds offered me the option to purchase discounted seats for the Dayton Dragons (the Reds Class A affiliate) new "Dragon's Lair" section in left field at 5/3rd Field. Access to the "Dragon's Lair" includes a free Dragons t-shirt, a complimentary Dragons ball cap, all you can eat burgers, hot dogs, mac-n-cheese, salad, baked beans, watermelon slices, soft drinks and cookies (one might safely assume that portions of the menu will alternate throughout the season). I was offered a range of dates, consulted with Lou to see if/when he and his family would be available and we picked a date; six tickets for April 9, 2018.

Mere days later, it was announced that date would also coincide with the Ohio debut of the Reds #1 pick (and #2 overall) from last season's June amateur draft - Hunter Greene.

Score!

~~Global warming~~ Climate change wrought dwindling temperatures, wind and cold rains and snow during the first part of April, the middle of April and the end of April. The game time temperature for Hunter Greene's Ohio debut was forecast to be in the mid-40's, too cold for My Dear Elderly Mother. I summoned a pinch hitter off the bench.....

..... Yes! That's right! The Incomparable Joe Wilhelm, fresh off his disappearance act ditching me on Opening Day. Moments after this photo was snapped, we spied Hunter Greene taking the field to begin warming up and so hastily we recreated the pose with Hunter Greene in the background:

That's Hunter (above) standing next to the tarp and near the stands, facing the stands. Here are more shots of Hunter Greene getting loose:

Joe and I then went for food. We loaded up our plates with hot, steaming food. Seated back at the table I took a hearty bite of my cheeseburger. It was cold. No joke. The near-freezing temperature and bitter wind conspired to cool my plate of hot food even before I could get back to my seat. Cold burger. Cold hot dog. Cold mac-n-cheese. Not very appetizing. Keeping our eyes on the prize, we focused on our reason for being there!

Hunter Greene, number 3 in your program (and on the scoreboard, above) but number 1 in our cold, slow-beating hearts.

Lou and the family arrived just before the first pitch, bringing with him a bag full of hand warmers! The Dragons took the field, the umpire yelled "play ball!" (this I cannot verify, from our position atop the left field fence), and Hunter Greene fired a fastball to the first batter he faced in Ohio.

Steeeee-rike one!

100 MPH on the stadium radar gun! Even local high school baseball legend Joe Wilhelm couldn't hit that! I had mentioned to my nieces earlier in the afternoon that Joe would be available for signing autographs through the 3rd inning but they declined.

In the third inning an alarming activity near the ball field was observed; Dragons personnel stirring in the bullpen. And just like that, after 3 innings, Hunter Greene got the hook. He pitched well and threw hard but the manager shut him down before Hunter Greene could qualify for the win. Why the Reds/Dragons think they need him to throw fewer innings as a professional than he did in high school is beyond me.

With Greene yanked, there was some contemplation about heading back for Butler County. This sentiment increased as an odd sort of frozen precipitation began to fall on us. "Sleet," Lou said. "Freezing rain," offered Joe. I examined closely the precipitation in my fleece-gloved hand. Graupel, I determined. Everyone looked at me in stunned silence. "Say what?!" said The Incomparable Joe Wilhelm. Graupel, I repeated. Out came the smartphone, the Googs was dialed up, "graupel" punched in and - voila! - there was some agreement with my pronouncement. Lou accused me of creating a fictional Wikipedia page for graupel.

Hey, I watch Jen Carfagno each morning. I know my weather terminology.

The Incomparable Joe Wilhelm is a people person and he makes friends wherever he goes. Including left field in Dayton, Ohio.

A career minor leaguer, I'm not certain Narcisco Crook speaks English but with Joe that isn't necessary or even preferable; Joe speaks an international language of friendship and goodwill. Joe and Narcisco struck up a funny exchange of cheers, whoops, and hollers. We efforted to cobble together a banner to hang over the left field fence that would have read "Crook's Corner" but all we could find were flimsy napkins.

Lou and family determined 6 innings at the Dayton Municipal Cryogenic Chamber Ballpark was sufficient misery (plus, it was a school night for the girls) and so they bolted but not before informing me of the intense, blazing embrace of molten warmth that could be found in the restrooms. Curious to discover this mythical Xanadu of heat, I shook myself free from the layer of ice that entombed me to my seat and visited the men's room. Affixed to the ceiling of the restroom was what must have been an 80-year old military grade heater removed from the hanger of a decommissioned WW2 aircraft carrier. Radiant heat exploded from this unit and filled every molecule of oxygen like God's Own Blast Furnace. My relief from the cold was so instantaneous and all-encompassing that I would have gladly melted into a puddle like Frosty the Snowman in that 5/3rd Field hothouse.

Warmed up, I returned to the game. Joe and I heroically stuck it out through the 8th inning before we spit the bit [horse racing term].

I dropped off Joe at his palatial estate and fired up the Jeep's satellite radio. I rocked out to an Eddie Van Halen guitar solo cruising through downtown H-town: