On my way home Thursday the dashboard of the car read “117.”
As in degrees. Never mind I was on my way to a baseball game, where first pitch was at 5:30 p.m., and NO, it wasn’t outside.
Two nights ago, our baseball games were cancelled because of lightning (a great idea, by the way) but Thursday night, 117 degrees wasn’t enough. The parents were hot, for sure, but the kids didn’t even seem to mind.
While I was visiting relatives in the Midwest earlier this week, a couple people asked how we could possibly play in heat like that.
I said I would rather play in the heat we have than the heat THEY have. It was about 90 degrees and humid at the time. Think about it.
This summer thing we have? It’s our kids’ badge of honor.
When they’re older and live somewhere cooler than Phoenix they will tell their kids how hot it was when they played, how long their games were. … it will sound just like US when we say we walked to school uphill both ways in the snow.
Look, I think as we get older, we don’t handle this heat as well. I don’t like watching games in 115 degrees. Who does?
But when it’s the state finals, you just grit your teeth and sit down on that hot bleacher seat. (Bring a wet towel!)
And thank goodness we aren’t on a road crew or landscape team somewhere. That would be rough.
No, you have to admit, sports in the Valley is usually pretty cushy (as is most of life here.
These hot games are a part of growing up in the Valley, like snow on the soccer field is part of life in the Midwest. You drink more water. You find shade anywhere you can. (Ever stand in the shadow of a fencepole or queen palm tree? You have if you live in the Valley.) You carry sunscreen in your purse.
Hey, it’s better than snow boots.