Thursday, Part I

Terri & I were at Dickey-Stephens Park Thursday night for the opening night of Arkansas Travelers baseball. It had rained earlier in the day and the forecast for later in the night was potentially ominous depending on who you listened to. However, I actually saw the sun peek through the clouds during the afternoon and we headed to the ballpark confident that we'd see a full nine innings of baseball.

Twice during the first seven innings, there were brief periods of rain -- mostly mist or sprinkles -- but they each tuckered out rather quickly. In the top of the seventh inning, we started to see lightning illuminate the clouds. I wondered what the threshold might be for the umpiring crew to halt play.

After the seventh inning stretch, Terri & I moved up to seats that were covered as the rain reappeared and became steady. In the bottom of the seventh, we watched as the flickers of lightening turned into defined bolts. With 10 players, three umpires, two coaches, a couple of guys on deck and who knows who else standing in an open field surrounding by tall metal poles... you'd think that bolt lightning would be reason to stop play. Nope.

The game played on into the top of the eighth amidst continued lightning. Midland loaded the bases on a pair of walks and a single and the game played on. It played on, that is, until Travs manager Bobby Magallanes called time-out to visit the mound. It was only then that the home plate umpire cleared the field and I'm still not certain that he didn't it because of the rain and not the lightning.

The time was shortly before 9:30. Terri & I had just watched the grounds crew pull out the tarp when my mom called. She said that the news was reporting possible tornadoes southwest of us and that the storm was supposed to hit North Little Rock at 9:41. Knowing our house was only two miles away, I weighed my choices in the span of about two seconds. Ten minutes was enough time to get home. Although our house isn't exactly a FEMA shelter, I thought it would be better than sitting in an open baseball park. As Terri & I reached the exit gates at the stadium, the tornado sirens dropped.

We made a mad sprint to my truck parked at Broadway & Orange, did a slalom through what little traffic we encountered on Main Street and were home in minutes. I threw The Cat in a cage, we turned on the TV for weather reports and cleared the junk out of the bottom of the hall closet. We were ready.

Fortunately for us, the crazy went south of us and north of us... but left Park Hill unscathed. I consider us blessed considering the North Little Rock airport three miles north of the house took a direct hit. Airplanes and hangars there were heavily damaged or destroyed and we don't even limbs on the ground at the house. Blessed, indeed.