Fredbird has come unstuck in time.

It is 2017. Fredbird prances about the outfield. People are cheering, but not the same as they were. These people seem distant. They know Fredbird, but when the players’ names are announced, it causes not the stir it once did. Glazed over looks and the low ember of cell phone light cover the faces of the crowd. Fredbird approaches the crowd to find out what is wrong.

Suddenly it is 1985. The heat from the Astroturf baking his talons. The crowd he wanted to examine is now alert, alive, bright. Fredbird turns around to find his friends, and they were the crowd’s friends too. This is real. These are the Cardinals. Everything is beautiful, and once again he feels alive. The crowd is getting louder and louder as the Cardinals ran onto the field.

But Fredbird finds himself now in a holding tank in a time that isn't his, overlooking a stadium of glass and chrome. In the crowd, each fan has their own tank also. Under the field, thousands more look up at the field from under the glass floor that holds up the Cardinals. All in tanks. At mid-inning, everyone turns to Fredbird. He is on every screen. He begins to see that the tanks housed the fans only allow them to see one thing at a time. At this time it is Fredbird. Fredbird dances as he hadn’t since the 80’s, gyrating and jumping and spinning, with all eyes on him.

He is now back in 2017. Fireworks are going off somewhere. He didn’t look for them. Nobody looked for them. So it goes.