I stood in line for about 20 minutes last night to get my ticket for the Marlins game. The combination of watching Jose Fernandez pitch at home, seeing Dee Gordon return to the team, and, ideally, witnessing Ichiro Suzuki get his 3,000th hit brought out the home crowd. I was not used to waiting to get into Marlins Park but it was a good thing, I told myself, that people were coming out to support the team.
Fernandez was gone after the fifth inning (and giving up five runs). Gordon started, but went 0 for 4. Ichiro came in to pinch hit and smacked a double down the first base line, for hit 2,998, but most of his teammates couldn't get the ball out of the infield.
It occurred to me that perhaps the Marlins play better when not so many people are watching. It took me forever to exit the stadium.
One positive aspect of Trump's presence in the presidential race is that the attacks on him don't need to stretch the truth (as attacks on candidates often do). Opponents can criticize and pillory him - as they did last night - without ever having to depart from the facts. Trump's gross unsuitability has created a refreshing probity.
I was in the Cooking section at The Book Trader on 2nd Street, searching for a book by M.F.K. Fisher to leave for my hostess as a thank you present, when I pushed aside some volumes in a container on the floor and saw the familiar black-and-white cover of Unquiet Days. After finding a paperback copy of With Bold Knife and Fork, I carried my first book to its proper home in the Travel section, where, on a bottom shelf, out of alphabetical order, sat a copy of A Way to See the World. I pulled it out and, after checking to see if it carried an inscription (it didn't), I found a good home for it, and Unquiet Days, on a slightly higher shelf next to Colin Thubron's Behind the Wall. Later that evening I entered Head House Books, a few blocks south on 2nd, to talk about The Joys of Travel and marvel, silently, at how one street in Philly contains my collected works.