THE COLISEUM
"Rup bup baa, rup bub badaa, rup bup baa rrub, TEJADA!" The stands rise, feet stomping out the rhythm, mouths open, expecting and demanding "TEJADA!" to fulfill them. The rhythm, the demand, rushes through the coliseum. My voice is the same as the voice of the fat man in a suit, holding a beer, sitting front row, behind the first base line. My voice is the same as the voice of the little girl clutching her mitt with her eyes closed and her fingers crossed, chanting "right here, right here, right here," two rows down, as she leans over the metal barrier between the bleachers and the field. My voice is the same as the voices of all five half-naked "sombrero boys" shivering in Mount Davis. At this moment, we are all connected. All our thoughts are intent upon this game-there is nothing else.
We wait. Victory or defeat-what will it be? Roar or sigh-what will it be? We wait-all of us silent. I grab hold of the two people beside me. Our eyes squint in concentration. Our stomachs tighten in expectation. We "send energy" from our hands into Tejada's, and we wait. "Smack!" The ball is in the air. The beer on the first base line is suspended five inches below the fat man's open mouth. The chant two rows down stops and the little girl opens her eyes. All five half-naked boys have forgotten to shiver. We wait.
And the crowd goes wild! "The A's have won the game!" The woman behind the fat man is soaked in beer, the little girl's mother has to reclaim her daughter as she tips over the barrier and the sombrero boys send their sombreros to the wind. Victory! What a roar! I high-five the people around me, jump in the air, pump my fist and join in the rhythm that has returned again after that two second "wait." "LET'S GO A's!"
