The Commodores v. The Ospreys
Even so, we never order pizza. Well, my son does because he's not crazy about seafood. But when he does order pizza he has to suffer our displeased looks, followed by wrathful remarks about how long it takes to cook his pizza. "We'd be finished eating by now if we didn't have to wait for your pizza!"
But this particular time the family wasn't in a rush. In fact, we were taking our time, because we were going to a baseball game, and we were early. We were going to watch the Falmouth Clippers play the Cotuit Kettlers.
It was a beautiful evening. The wind was strong. The American flag was flying all its colors out proudly. The strong breeze felt nicely cool on our sunburned backs. We were comfortable in our flip flops, shorts, and tank tops. The sunset was red (sailor's delight). In a little bit, we wouldn't need our sunglasses because the sun would have set and the field lights would be on.
The field lights were tall banks of three rows of large globes of lights. The lights covering the center field had an osprey nest perched on its top. We could see activity in the nest. At least a couple of birds' heads were bobbing up. Once in awhile, we could even hear baby ospreys crying. They were hungry. And sure enough, along came daddy, the provider, with a fish. We could even see that the fish was a scup. Yuck! We throw scup back in the ocean; it's too bony. I guess the Ospreys like it, however.
No sooner had daddy fed the young'uns when mama came flying towards the nest with a twig in her mouth. She was sprucing up the nest, obviously, a never ending chore. All night, she went back and forth with tiny twigs.
And that's how the game went. Daddy came back with fish. Mama came back with twigs. The baby ospreys complained and complained. All night we were entertained by the osprey soap opera.
Oh by the way, the Falmouth Commodores won, 6-3.