My second M's game of the season last night against the A's was memorable despite being pretty damned similar to my first M's game of the season, April 1 against Cleveland—the last game the M's played at Safeco before their recent eight-game roadtrip. In both:

• Mike Leake started
• M's fell behind 2-0
• They tied it 2-2 on a Kyle Seager double
• They soared ahead in the bottom of the 7th on two homeruns, one by Mitch Hanniger, the other by a player who doesn't hit many (Dee Gordon/Daniel Vogelbach)
• Juan Nicasio gave up a dinger in the top of the 8th—a no-doubter to a guy who had hit one earlier in the game (Edwin Encarnacion/Khrys Davis)
• Edwin Diaz closed it out in the 9th

Opposition line in the first game: 4/7/0. This one: 4/8/0. M's line went from 5/8/1 to 7/11/1. Almost all of our hitting came from the top half of the lineup. Bottom half is Death Valley. April 1st, our bottom four spots went 1-15 with a walk. Last night, 2-16 without a walk. Ichiro, batting 8th, went 0-3 with a K in both games. In both games, he was replaced in the top of the 8th by Guillermo Heredia, who, in the bottom of the 8th, got on (walk/single). Our first baseman (Ryon Healey/Andy Romine) went 0-4 to raise/lower/unchange his average to .000. After both games, our first baseman was exactly 0-11 on the season. In both games, the weather was shitty. 

It's a formula.

All of that was still memorable because each game is unique. April 1st's shitty weather was 44 degrees at gametime and not budging thereafter. Last night, when I began walking to Safeco from First Hill, it was low 50s but seemed warmer. Halfway there, about 3rd and James, I felt a few drops. Once I hit Occidental I had to get the umbrella out. Waiting for my friend David by the glove, I stood up against the stadium, under protective eaves, and watched as the sky suddenly opened. A real downpour. Buckets. Not Seattle rain at all. David said it was like the rain in Georgia, where he's from, except in Georgia it's warm out when it does that. We watched as people scattered, squealed, jumped puddles. The Bible thumper with the loudspeaker system stood underneath it all, at 1st and Royal Brougham, proclaiming his truth, proclaiming our doom. I half admired him for it. A few hours earlier, with British and French support, Pres. Trump had ordered missile attacks on Syrian targets following Pres. Assad's chemical attacks on his own people. This in the midst of another scandal-ridden week of this scandal-ridden sad excuse for a presidency. It was less the act that bothered me, because what do I know, than the anticipated spin. This fat dipshit playing at war without consequences. Citizens in other countries worry about bombs and chemicals, I get to worry about words. Everyone in America stands under a protective eave.

I like going to games with David because he's annoyed by the things that annoyed me 20 years ago but which I‘ve since become innured to: the noisiness between innings; the urge to entertain us 24/7 with non-baseball gimcracks: cup stacking; music trivia; ball-under-cap; hydro races. Most fans cheer louder for red than for the game. What are you gonna do.

David’s friend Jacob, who is blind and works part-time at Safeco, joined us around the 4th inning. After the final out, after the M's won 7-4, we went looking to get a drink before Jacob bussed/David ubered/I walked home. Tougher than you think. There's that place with the big flame out front on the corner of Occidental and Jackson, right across the street from where FX McCrory's used to be, and which still sits unoccupied, but we opted to keep going. Bad choice. The joints were either loud dance places or closing up for the night. Eventually the moment passed, and we walked Jacob over to 4th and James for his bus. There was already a bus waiting there, not his, but I liked how the female bus driver, seeing Jacob, opened the door, asked, made sure he was alright.