Karen rummaged through her bag. All she wanted was a hairbrush. And all she could see was junk belonging to her daughter. Becky’s sweater - she wasn’t wearing it now, but she’d want it as soon as the wind started blowing in off the water. The bleachers at Safeco Field could get quite chilly. Becky’s rather strange looking doll was in the bag too. Gertrude went everywhere with Becky. Today Gertrude was wearing a long white dress. Karen wasn’t sure if that meant she was getting married or if she was just an angel.

There was her hairbrush - stuck to the back of Gertrude’s head, the bristles stuck in Gertrude’s ragged blond yarn hair. Karen untangled it and ran the brush through her wavy, dirty blond hair quickly. One of the other players wives gave her a condescending glance. Karen wrinkled her nose and pulled her hair back into it’s usual messy bun.
Usually three types of people sat in the players wives section.

There were the people like Karen, who showed up at the game in jeans and a t-shirt, usually with enough stuff in their arms to keep small children entertained for three hours.

There were the dates who would show up for one or two games. Karen had met several girls who came to the game with Howie Dorough. Howie had a new girlfriend every homestand. Sometimes he had two, if they were in town for a long time. There were other players who always had a date at the game. Alicea, the shortstop was another one. Karen didn’t usually talk very much to them, but she suspected some of the other gorgeous women that appeared in the stands came with Nick Carter or AJ McLean. Neither the pitcher or the outfielder looked like the type who would sit home and let dust collect, so to speak.

Then there were the women like the one who had just been annoyed by Karen. Karen knew who the woman was. Her first name was Leah, and she was married to one of the starting pitchers. Probably the one starting the game tonight, or Leah wouldn’t have come to the game. Leah was part of the group that came to the game in their expensive pantsuits, their hair was always perfect, they would applaud politely when their husband came up to the plate, but otherwise talked quietly among themselves. There were a few who ignored the game entirely, talking on cell phones instead. They were the ones that Karen hated the most.

“Mommy!” Becky bolted down the aisle, skidding to a halt in front of her seat. “The lineups are almost ready!” Becky’s favorite part of the game was when she got to clap. She clapped for every player when they were announced in the lineup, she clapped at every Mariner pitcher strikeout, at every Mariner putout, even for the routine outfield catches.

“Be careful.” Karen shook her head. Becky, in her mad dash to her seat, had managed to bang the lady sitting in front of them in the head with her arm, and then knock Karen’s coffee over onto the floor. The woman in front of Becky was one of the third group. She was in her impeccable little red cashmere twinset and black pants, her curly dark hair perfectly in place.

“Sorry down there!” Becky hung over the back of the seat and apologized.

“It’s okay.” The lady reassured Becky. “No harm done.”

“Sit down, Becky.” Karen glared. She had never met the woman in front of them, but Becky talking her to death wasn’t the way to start off. “The lineups are starting.”

Becky cheered and jumped up into her seat.

“Batting eighth, the catcher, Kevin Richardson!” The PA guy announced.

Becky clapped especially hard.

Karen smiled to herself. She might not be the most put together person in the stands, but she was still married to the best looking guy on the team.