Saturday, May 8, 2010

Wright Time in the Bay Area

There was a knock on the door of the fifth floor apartment, and David Wright wasn't pleased about it. Even the kid knew about Wright Time now, and Wright Time was due to start just a few minutes from Wright Now.

"Who is it?"

"Bay Bridge, baby."

"Well come on in!" Bay entered, strutting sheepishly. This may seem like an oxymoron, but Jason Bay was full of paradoxes. He was slowly crafty, engagingly disinterested, quietly loquacious. Strutting sheepishly was one of the more normal things he did.

"What's up Jay-B?" asked Wright as he gave him a double fist bump.

"Well," said Bay, leaning with his forearm against a wall, awkwardly casual, "lately I've been having trouble getting into high gear, y'know?"

"Oh, I know," said Wright, fake punching Bay in the ribs.

"Right, and I know you have this ritual that gets you all fired up before the game..."

"Wright on."

"And I was wondering if... maybe... today I could join you. I think it might be just what I need."

Wright walked over to the window, moving his hands around as if he was making points and then considering them. He had never shared Wright Time with anyone. They all knew about it, and if you happened to be taking the elevator passed the fifth floor at the Wright Moment, you might catch a few seconds of it, but no one had ever joined him. He looked out across Brooklyn. He was always up for new things, but this new? Wright time was sacred. Still, if there was a teammate in need...

"Let's do it Jay-Bay!"


Bay did sit-ups while Wright went to the chin-up bar.

"Who's Wright?" called Bay, as his back hit the ground.

"I'M WRIGHT!" roared Wright, lifting himself up.

"Which hand?"


"Off or on?"


-- fastforward twenty minutes --



"Buddha's fourth principle?"


"What kind of triangle?"


Wright came down from his last push-up and Bay lowered himself from the chin-up bar. 

"That ruled, Turkey Bay-ster!" shouted Wright, high-fiving Bay. "Let's see that Bay Bridge!"

Bay obliged, leaping on to his hands, then flipping his legs over his head on to the ground, then gracefully, almost as if he was being lifted by someone else, rose up into a standing position. He finished with a fist pump and a "Take it to the north side, sucka!"

Bay took the elevator back to the 44th floor, to get his things. He was feeling pumped up, but still a little off. He wasn't in the zone he had hoped for. He felt this way as he adorned his uniform, combed his hair, grabbed his bag, and went back into the elevator to go down to the lobby and board the team bus. He felt this way, until Pops the doorman asked him a simple question, and it sparked a revelation.

"What are you going to do today?" Pops asked.

"Oh just play a little- Baysball." Pops, of course, didn't notice anything unusual about this reply.

"Are you all ready to go?" asked Pops, not looking up from his paper.


From then until the time that the game started, Bay, at various times, said that he loved Bayking cakes, listened to Baythoven and was planning to catch the Giants with Bayt. Not all of it was true, or made sense, but that's not what mattered. What mattered is that Bay had found his zone. Wright had his Wright Time, and Bay, was in a place he, and he alone, called the Bay Area.

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