Joy Ann with the Blue Hairspray

I took my eleven year-old son to his first Dodger game a couple of weeks back, and something happened during the game which was somewhat extraordinary in an ordinary way.



(I’m likely a derelict father for taking so long to make this happen in my son’s life. In my defense, though, he has been to two or three Mariner games up at Safeco Field in Seattle. However, it was clearly time to get to Dodger Stadium.)


We were sitting out in the blue seats along the first-base line, high above right field, right along an aisle. We were far enough away from home plate that I believe most of the people around us weren’t really that much into the game. (More on that another time.)


Soon after we sat down, a young girl, maybe nine, maybe ten years old, came up to us and asked if we wanted use some of her blue hairspray, in order to show “our Dodgers spirit.” A bit nonplussed, I turned her down, and so did my son. She didn’t seem fazed at all and moved on.


She, along with a younger, shyer partner, went all over the two sections which I could see around us, politely asking anyone and everyone if they wanted to show their Dodgers spirit with blue hair dye. She patiently explained that the dye wasn’t permanent and would easily wash out. She would then offer to spray either polka-dots or stripes in anyone’s hair. If a person agreed to it, she would have them bend their head down and then carefully get to work. She had a spray can and a small towel which she would use to ensure that the spray didn’t get on either the person’s clothes or in their face.


I was impressed with how thorough she and her partner were in covering the two sections and sure enough, by about the fifth inning or so, there were a bunch of blue-painted heads – dozens, easily -- to be seen among all the fans. These two girls were as thorough and determined as any of the vendors that came through our area.


A couple of people around us had an extended conversation in which they debated just how temporary the dye would be. Some thought it would take quite a while to wash out, while most others took the girl at her word that it would wash out the first time.


One of the interesting things about this girl is that it was hard for me to tell just how old she was. I may be completely off in my estimate. Whatever age she was, she was possessed a great deal of poise and presence. She had no problem approaching any adult or child and was polite, but persistent. I learned her name was Joy Ann, only because I heard her father call out to her – he was sitting in our same row, but across the aisle and in the middle of the next section. Up until that time, I had been concerned that maybe these girls were somehow just on their own, but of course, they weren’t. Joy Ann struck me as one of those people with ‘an old soul.’ She was one of those kids who are nine or ten going on thirty. I suspect she’ll be the one to organize whatever class reunions she’s part of the rest of her life. Usually, those people half drive me nuts, but this kid was different. She had some quality which stayed with you.


It also wouldn’t surprise me if she just ended up as the CEO of a company she starts up. Or maybe she’ll just sell pottery at the farmer’s market. She seemed to have a little of the hippie spirit, if that’s possible for a nine or ten year-old girl with hairspray at a Dodger game.


In her own unique way, Joy Ann with the blue hairspray, and her friend, made a night at the Dodgers game quite memorable. The Dodger lost the game 6-3. I doubt years from now, I’ll remember that.


Adam Dunn of the Washington Nationals hit two three-run homers to right field, each doinking off the foul pole (first time I’d ever seen that twice at a game, and from the same player), but I doubt that years from now I’ll remember that.


Maybe I will, but I suspect that what I will remember about the night, years and years from now, is Joy Ann with the blue hairspray.


Sitting there perched above right field, it crossed my mind that Dodger Stadium felt like the front porch for the city of Los Angeles for the night, and these two girls with the blue dye offering to help each of us “express our Dodgers’ spirit,” allowed our two sections to feel a little bit like a community, and not just a collection of strangers at a baseball game.


OK, confession time.


As the game got into the eighth and ninth innings, and Joy Ann and her friend were still offering their blue hairspray, it crossed my mind to tell them that if someone hadn’t gotten their head sprayed by then, they weren’t likely to ever have it done. But I didn’t.


The girls kept circling back to our location because there was a twelve year-old boy who made a big deal about turning them down and pulling the hood of his sweatshirt tight over his head whenever they came around and whose parents were encouraging him to go ahead and do it and teasing him about his response. During one these episodes, I was turned towards the game when I realized Joy Ann was standing directly next to me in the aisle and offered, “Huhh?” and held up the spray and towel when I looked her way.


I looked her in the eye and whispered, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but I don’t really like the Dodgers.” Then, I took off my baseball cap (Colorado Rockies) and showed her my bald and shaved head. “Besides, there’s not much to work with.” I could tell that my first response wasn’t going to be good enough, but when I showed her my head, she knew she didn’t have the necessary material to work with and she moved on.


Apparently, someone behind me was eavesdropping and thought my first response was a bit curmudgeonly because when I lifted my cap off my head and Joy Ann said, “Oh,” and moved on, he muttered, “You could have just said that.”


I didn’t really think I was being rude to Joy Ann, but who knows? I will confess to certain curmudgeonly impulses from time to time. I didn’t get my head sprayed with blue dye, but I’ll remember the effort and the night.