Take Me Out of the Ballgame

An 86-year-old cantankerous man's worst fear is realized when he
goes to his first Major League Baseball game and gets hit by a foul
ball, but insurance obtained from a California Health Insurance agent softened the blow.

Mickey Moosaka's nephews and nieces were at their wit's end. What
activity would their cantankerous grand-uncle agree to participate in
that the entire family might attend? He'd turned down bowling. "It
reminds me of pinheads," old Mickey said. He avoided restaurants.
"Flies and their eggs on every plate," he said, sickening anyone within
earshot. Miniature golf emphasized the codger's recently shrunken
stature. "Don't belittle me by taking me to a place like that," he'd
said to his thrifty niece Sappy in his rather squeaky Buster Brown
voice. It was decided that "Uncle Mickey" would take in a Dodger game
at the Stadium. Above all else, he enjoyed baseball, despite his
consummate fears. He finally relented but warned, "I'll probably get
bonked by a foul ball off the bat of Manny Ramirez." The geezer was a
lifelong Dodger fan but had never been to a game in person.

The Moosakas got a nice row of boxes not far from home plate, but
well back in the upper deck. The seats seemed relatively safe. "These
are great seats, huh Grumpa?" chirped twelve-year-old Matty to his
beloved great-great-uncle. Matty was in his last year of Little League
and played all-star caliber shortstop on a junior version of the
resurgent Dodgers.

Fifty or sixty foul balls came and went, a few coming close, within
a few rows, by the sixth inning, when the famous Dodger left fielder
approached the batter's box. "He's going to conk me with a foul ball,"
Mickey Moosaka predicted. The first pitch to Manny Ramirez was a
fastball, which he took. The next two pitches were outside, so the
count was 2-and-1 when the fateful pitch came. "This one hits me, I
know it," wailed old fearful Mickey. "No, it won't," said Sappy, fast
becoming Mickey's least favorite niece. "You worry too much." But the
next pitch, a curveball, was fouled back on an ominous trajectory. It
seemed like the ball had eyes. Sure enough, it smacked old Mickey on
the forehead with tremendous force, knocking him cold. Carried out of
the ballgame on a stretcher, he was taken to the nearest hospital.

But Sappy was no sap. "Thank God we already had accidental coverage
from a California Health Insurance agent," she said. "It didn't cost us
a cent."

"Thank God Grumpa Mickey didn't die!" wailed Matty, placing priorities correctly.

"I guess," Sappy was forced to agree.

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insurance plans for individuals, families, and children. Also available
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