Last week, I wrote about my experience attending the weirdest baseball game I’ve ever been to. Paul Skenes’ debut, the sixth walked in runs, the two hour weather delay, the Pirates scoring 10 runs, all the bangs and shimmies. You can check that out here if you missed it:

The Weirdest Game I’ve Ever Been To

But one part of that day I did not mention, was a baseball card I had picked up in the process.

I have a pretty large card collection overall. Hockey takes the top spot, but the baseball card collection of mine is growing as well. It’s a dangerous habit for me; in my mind, there is nothing more satisfying than opening a new pack of cards.

Unfortunately, there is nothing more unsatisfying to my wallet than dropping money on plastic cards that may or may not recoup value years down the line.

In any case, however, this card I got for free.

I was sitting in the 300 level seats at PNC Park last Saturday, just a row or two removed from the part of those sections that is covered. When I was in the hurry of buying tickets to this game, the first five sets of tickets I had selected were already sold before I could actually click “buy”.

It took me back to some very dark times fighting in the trenches to secure tickets to see my favorite artists, and gave me flashbacks I would rather avoid ever re-living. Later on I would learn that the first few sets of seats I tried and failed to get were under the roof in the top part of the 300 level.

I didn’t pay much mind to it, and to be honest, I wasn’t paying attention to what rows were anymore. I was just trying to click all the green buttons before the price skyrocketed.

The game started out very well. It was the most electric Pirates crowd I had ever been a part of, and after a rainy and slog-filled early afternoon, the sky had cleared up rather well by the time first pitch arrived.

Dare I say it was even sunny for a few minutes?

Paul Skenes was as advertised, at least in the power department. He regularly topped 100 miles per hour and each strikeout was more exciting than the last.

I should have learned to cherish that time more, because the greatness of Skenes and a 6-1 lead taken by the Pirates evaporated as quickly as that sunshine I saw peeking from the first base side of PNC Park moments ago.

Before I knew it, Skenes was lifted, the bases were loaded, and a kid by the name of Kyle Nicolas was taking the mound. After walking the first batter he faced to load the bases, Nicolas walked in a run. Then he did it again. And again.

Nicolas had thrown 15 balls in a row at one point.

I could not believe what I was watching. “How do you walk in three runs?” I screamed.

Oh, my poor naive self. That was just the beginning.

Nicolas was booed just as loud as Skenes was cheered, and I had Valvoline Oil to thank for this pitching change that brought in Josh Fleming to end this inning, which had two outs.

But Fleming, now a DFA’d pitcher, could not throw a strike either. He walked in another run to make it a 6-5 game, and then an infield single that proved to be too hard to handle for shortstop Oneil Cruz made it a tie game.

I sat in complete despair, but before I had proper time to digest what I had just watched, I was forced to jump up to the row behind me (which was mostly empty) to try and avoid the incoming rain storm. What was a light drizzle had turned into a thunderstorm in a hurry.

Even God could no longer believe what was happening on the field, and had to put a stop to it.

I was forced to bolt to the concourse as the grounds crew began to tarp the field. I was greeted by a mass of people who shared one common thought: what the f*** did we just watch?

With some family attending the game with me, I looked for a spot where my grandmother could be more comfortable. There were no seats in the concourse that weren’t entirely soaked, but she proclaimed that as long as she could lean against a wall, she would be fine.

So, we picked the awkward place of right inside the walkway to our section to set up camp. We had no idea when, or even if, the game would continue, which only underscored our disbelief in what we had just seen.

“That was the worst pitching I have ever seen in my life,” she told me (and eventually told me to write on here).

To my left, I heard somebody else say “not even little league pitchers do that!”

I laughed and agreed with the sentiment. As a former little leaguer myself, I was a part of some really bad teams, but even we did not walk in that many runs in a game, let alone an inning.

The minutes dragged on as the rain got lighter, then heavier, then lighter, then heavier again.

To the other side of the hallway were a few guys, and while I wasn’t fully paying attention I believe one of them had gone to kill some time in the team store. It only makes sense as to why they would have new baseball cards with them.

The big screen in left field, which I had ventured out to visit every now and then while armed with my umbrella, had begun to broadcast different games.

The Atlanta Braves were an inning away from pitching a combined no hitter, but the SNY broadcast was visible to us as I saw the New York Mets break that in the ninth inning. Though the Braves still won 4-1, at least that home crowd had something to cheer about at the very end.

I paced back and forth between the hallway and deck outside, checking in on the different games. At some point during all the walking, those guys with the cards left, but they had dropped one that was now sitting on the ground.

I didn’t pay much attention to it, as I continued to do whatever I could to kill the time, which at this point was well over an hour. I found myself staring at this card, tempted to pick it up.

I decided to wait. What if those guys realize one was missing? Maybe they’ll come back and get it.

Truth be told, if I had realized they dropped one when they were there, I would have said something. But they were gone, and I had no idea where they went.

In the meantime, I watched all these people almost step on it, as it sat all sad and alone, accidentally abandoned. Nobody came to claim it.

I couldn’t quite tell who it was, which only piqued my interest.

After about a half hour, I concluded those guys weren’t coming back, and I went to go pick up that card.

Posing on the cover was Quinn Preister, and it looked to be in alright condition.

The back of the card, however, was a complete mess. The rain and wet ground had taken its toll on poor Quinn’s stats and bio, which was partially erased as a result.

Still, now that I had picked it up, I wasn’t going to put it back down. And after I had watched it be passed up and walked over by countless people? I couldn’t stop this rescue mission now.

I dried it off as best I could and waved it around to try and air it out.Yes, the card was beaten up, but that’s what made me want to give it a home all the more. That’s all it ever wanted.

When it was announced that the game was going to be resumed, I slid the card in my back pocket and gathered everyone back to our seats.

The stadium had almost cleared out; a lot of the fans had left at some point during the delay, and as I watched Colin Holderman walk in two more runs, I wondered why the hell I stayed at all.

But in the end, Yasmani Grandal and Andrew McCutchen played the heroes, hitting home runs that gave Pittsburgh an improbable, almost impossible, 10-9 win over the Chicago Cubs.

Like I said before, it truly was the craziest game I have ever been to.

When I got back home, I took Preister out of my pocket. The card didn’t totally survive my pocket; it was bent a little bit, but nothing much to compare to what the rain did. It didn’t matter now though, it had a home.

There’s a small collection of cards I keep separate from the rest, in their own special binder. These cards, ranging in type, condition, and sport (and some of them aren’t even sports ones) remain separate because they have some sort of distinct memory or story attached to them.

This card stands out to me as a reminder of that crazy game. It’s funny, because Preister had literally no impact on this game that he didn’t even play in, but this card is symbolic of the whole day.

And years from now, I’ll remember that game in part from this card, that I found on the concrete, all alone on a rainy day at the ballpark.

It’s the little things in life. Truly.