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“That dude’s shirt is awesome.” He changed direction and walked toward the guy. “Excuse me. Can I be total weirdo and take a picture of your shirt?”
“Yeah, no problem.” The guy dropped his arms and Ryan snapped a picture of the t-shirt making sure to omit the guy’s face from the shot. “Thanks, man.”
“Holy shit. You’re Ryan Graves.”
“I am, yeah.” Even after several years in the Majors, he still got a little buzz whenever someone recognized him in public. Sure it got old sometimes, but that first person in the airport or the little kid who was razzed to meet a player, it kind of still stacked up.
“Can I get a picture with you?”
“Of course.” It was the least he could do for the guy letting him snap a photo of his weird swamp thing t-shirt. “Gonz, you mind?”
“Wow, you’re Ramon Gonzalez. Holy shit.” The guy scanned the surrounding area. “Is your whole team here?”
“Uh, yeah somewhere,” Ryan replied.
“Holy shit.”
Gonzo grabbed the guy’s phone, snapped a couple shots, then handed the phone back.
“You can have my shirt if you want.” The guy grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it away from his body.
“What?”
“You can have my shirt. I can just buy something else there at the gift shop.”
Gonzo laughed and tried to cover it with a cough.
“Nah, that’s cool, man. I appreciate the offer, but you keep your clothes,” Ryan told him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, man, positive. A picture’s cool. Thanks though.”
“No problem. So where are you guys headed now? Who do you play next?”
Ryan stayed and chatted with the swamp thing fan for a bit, then finally was able to extract himself from the conversation.
“I hope that was worth it,” Gonzo muttered as they walked away.
Ryan looked at the photo on his phone of the swamp thing head surrounded by the words 'I don’t fucking believe it'. He pulled up Peyton’s number and fired her a text.
Ryan:Flights delayed again.
Followed by a picture of the t-shirt. He watched as the three little dots instantly appeared.
Peyton:Oh my god. That shirt is awesome.
And sorry about the delay that sucks.
But seriously that shirt… so good.
He laughed as he read her replies. He’d known when he saw the shirt she’d love it.
“What’s with the goofy face?” Gonzo asked.
“What?” He snapped his head up. “What face?”
“That one.” Gonzo pointed at Ryan’s face, then placed his hands under his own chin and batted his eyes like a besotted fool.
