Steve Foucault
June 28, 2011
Just under a month ago, Steve Foucault peered in for a sign. Now he is coming set. He’s in a different uniform—the away ensemble—and it seems as if his hair may be longer. He’s still working away on a big chaw in his right cheek, and he’s still got the walrus facial hair. In both cards, trees line the horizon, and in this card there also seem to be members of the Oakland A’s in the distance.
This weekend my very pregnant wife and I went for a walk. The doctor said going on walks would help get the baby in position, or something along those lines. I forget the specifics. I am finding it more and more difficult to process information with any accuracy. I’ve been reading books on pregnancy and labor and all the facts and instructions seem to partially or completely disintegrate on contact with my mind. Anyway, the walk was good. We ended up over by the lake, where there’s a small sandy beach. It was a gray day, not that warm, but some kids were still splashing around and playing Frisbee in the water. We sat on a bench on a concrete slab up above the beach, next to another bench that had a pair of women’s shoes sitting on it. One early morning a few weeks earlier, I’d been running on this beach when two young deer appeared around the corner of the abandoned-looking building at the edge of the beach. There’s nothing but big rocks around that corner, so their appearance seemed inexplicable to me. They followed me for a while. I kept looking back and there they were, clambering on their spindly legs up the beach, stepping unsurely on the sidewalk leading away from the beach, moving toward Sheridan Road. Sheridan Road is a busy street with a McDonald’s and a red line El station and homeless people and, on rusted racks, the bones of half-pilfered bicycles. I lost sight of the fawns when I turned the corner onto this street, and I don’t know what became of them. When my wife and I sat on a bench this weekend at that beach I thought of them and thought of this kid on the way.
When a pitcher comes set after getting the sign he most commonly focuses his gaze downward, or perhaps even inward, gathering himself, gathering resolve. In this photo Steve Foucault seems instead to be gazing off into the distance.
Sometimes I find myself kind of praying.
Cardboard Gods 
Congrats on your upcoming addition to the family. I can remember lots of introspection and kind of praying leading up to the birth of my first child.. Then when it’s all said and done and you are standing in the hospital room and holding that tiny little fragile baby it all goes away and you are at the best place you will ever be… Then another day or two passes, you realize the doctors and nurses are kicking you out of the hospital… you realize that you and your wife are on your own… and the introspection and kind of praying starts all over again.
Right on, Nunyer. We had a nurse shoot a photo of us as we’re about to exit the hospital lobby for the first time and the look behind the smiles is pure terror. Enjoy it, and take as much time off as you can.
The ALL CAPS TEXAS road uni Foucalt’s wearing is kinda obnoxious, no? They wore it for only one season before going to the TexaS style roadie that resembled their RangerS unis.
Picked up the ‘Bears’ book last night.
Josh, I’ve been reading your work for a long time now, and I can only glean from your fine writing of late that you are gathering resolve more than you know. You will certainly be more successful than the Texas Rangers of the mid 70’s. My God, man. You will surely do better than second and third place, even with Charlie O’s A’s in the division. Oh no, Josh. Not you. You’ll be just fine.
This is wird. I was just looking at Steve’s card of 1976 yesterday. I wrote a poem about him…