Arizona Diamondbacks 10, Philadelphia Phillies 4

Yes, I was there for the debacle, and this is how I survived:

1. The game starts at 3:55 p.m., the hottest time of the day during the hottest time of the year, because Fox Sports has made this its Game of the Week.  During a steamy walk from the subway (no air conditioning on my subway car!) to the ballpark, I curse Fox.  I arrive just as an Italian-American man—it’s Italian Heritage “Night,” according to several signs and the scoreboard—is butchering the national anthem.
2. Since I know Adam Eaton is pitching, I head right to Brewerytown.  I have a feeling I’m going to need help cutting down down the heat- and Eaton-induced crankiness.
3. My friend is already in our seats, puzzled by my arrival just at game time.  That’s so unlike me, he says.  A sweaty 300-pound man is in the seat next to me.  Oh my.  I plot our escape to empty seats.
4. The D’backs score two in the top of the first.  Our seats our still in the shade, but the sun is moving toward us fast.  I think about asking the usher about the policy for fans who can’t fit in their own seats.
5. Shane Victorino hits a two-run homer in the bottom of the third, tying the game.  To celebrate, my friend and I move over a couple of seats.  In just a few more minutes, our row will be in the sun, though.
6. Eaton collapses in the fourth, giving up a two-out double to D’backs pitcher Randy Johnson(!), a career .126 hitter.  I boo, puzzling my friend again.  That’s unlike you, too, he says.  By the end of the long, long inning, the D’backs are ahead 10-2, Eaton is in the dugout, R.J. Swindle is our pitcher, and my seat is fully in the sun.
7. We score two more runs in the bottom of the fifth.  Victorino likes the heat, apparently, hitting another homer.  It’s too hot, and we’re too far behind, though, for me to take much pleasure in Victorino’s efforts.
8. In the sixth inning, my friend says he’s never seen me sweat so much.  He goes for bottled water.  I try to imagine cold-stream waterfalls.
9. The Dasani helps, but the SPF-70 sunscreen on my arms and legs is glistening.  I touch up the sunscreen on my face.  Our seats suddenly smell like a nuclear piña colada explosion.
10. I snag a Minute Maid frozen lemonade from a vendor.  This is the first time during the season that a vendor has graced our section with frozen lemonade.  What’s up with that, Phillies?  That frozen lemonade is one of my favorite things.  On the planet.  The first couple of bites are close to a religious experience.
11. The frozen lemonade has saved me.  The next few innings slide by, scoreless.
12. A co-worker visits us in the ninth inning.  She thinks we’re taking the heat well.  I try to act cool, literally, but I know it’s all the Minute Maid’s doing.
13. The game ends, and I’m disgusting.  I’m wet, from sweat and sunscreen.  No one sits anywhere near me on the subway or train rides home.  I’m an outcast.
14. I eventually arrive home, just as darkness is falling.  I need to take a shower, obviously, but I have to sit down.  Very, very tired.  I fall asleep.  I have a dream involving frozen lemonade.  The next thing I know, it’s 9 a.m. on Sunday morning.  Wow.