Tim Daniels settled down for the evening, in front of the television. He took a sip of the American beer, and smiled to himself. This was the life, a live baseball game, and an American beer. Living in the North West of the UK, there were only a few games a week he could watch live, due to the time difference. Tim was glued to the screen as the first innings started, the pitcher doing his best to make the strikes and get the batter out. Swing and a miss, he called out. 

He had been obsessed with America ever since his childhood. There was just something so special, magical about the United States of America. Even from the UK, he could immerse himself in the American thing, he would watch the American sports, recording the games that took place over night, watching the highlight shows. While most of his friends were into British sports, soccer, rugby and cricket, he turned to the USA for his sports fix. He knew more about baseball than soccer, and would always book the day after the Super Bowl off work. He would stay up all night for the big game, drinking American beer and eating peanut M&MS and Hershey bars. Aside from the sports, every film and TV show he watched would be American. If a colleague mentioned a new cop show, he would be interested until they mentioned it was set in London not Las Vegas, Manchester not Miami. He was about to turn forty years old, and he knew he’d be into the American thing for the rest of his days. This wasn’t a passing fad, this was what he had been into since he was a kid. 

At his fortieth birthday celebration, in his local pub, his family and friends wished him happy birthday and treated him to bottles of American beer, and double Bourbon on the rocks. The buffet that was put on was, of course, of an American theme, all hotdogs, hamburgers and Chicago-style pizza, followed by chocolate-chip muffins, donuts and apple pie. Tim wore his San Francisco 49ers jersey and his Los Angeles Dodgers baseball cap. He usually toned down his attire when not watching the game, but, he decided, it was his special night so he could dress how he pleased. 

Later in the evening, when everyone had munched on the wonderful buffet food and settled down again, his friends and family summoned him onto the dance-floor. With his cheeks reddening, he shuffled out into the middle of the dance-floor. His family and friends sang Happy Birthday and For he’s a jolly good fellow, while he squirmed with embarrassment. Finally, when the torment was over, everyone clapped and cheered.

And then an envelope was pushed into his hands. With everyone looking on, he opened the envelope and studied the paperwork inside. He gasped as he discovered the gift that he had been given. Fights had been booked to New York, Manchester to John F Kennedy airport, and hotel reservations for five nights at a hotel on West 35th Street.   

‘Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it.’ Tim said.

‘Everyone has put in, we’ve all clubbed together.’ His mother said, a tear in her eye. ‘You’ve been banging on about America since you were little, and now you’re going.’

‘You’re actually going to America, son.’ His father said. ‘You fly out next week, work have approved the time off, it’s all arranged.’

‘New York City, man.’ A friend called out. ‘The Big Apple.’

Someone else called out that he’d have to get tickets to a ball-game while he was over there.

‘I honestly can’t believe it. Thank you all so much.’ Tim managed, still reeling at the wonderful gift and the generosity of his friends and family. 

A week later, Tim was sitting in the booth of a diner having a cheese-burger with fries and drinking a pint of American beer. Classic American rock and roll music played over the speakers. The walls were crammed with pictures of American legends, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, John Wayne, Muhammad Ali, Babe Ruth. There was even a photo of his hero, 49ers quarter-back Joe Montana. 

‘My family and friends treated me with tickets to New York for my fortieth birthday.’ He told the waitress, who simply smiled and went to pour another customer a coffee.

‘God bless America.’ Tim said with a grin.

Back home, he met up with one of his friends, Liam for a beer and a catch up. Sitting at table in the pub, Tim with his usual American beer, his friend with a pint of British lager, Liam asked how his trip had been.

‘Yeah, it was so good. It really was a dream come true.’ Tim said.

‘That’s fantastic. Did you get to a ball-game?’

‘No, there just wasn’t time. There was so much to see and do.’ Tim replied.

‘Excellent. What was the highlight, your favourite part?’ 

‘To be honest, the whole trip was just so magical. There was no actual highlight, it was the whole thing, like walking down the New York sidewalks, the basketball games on TV in the bars, just the complete experience.’ 

‘There must have been one stand-out moment? Was it riding in a yellow cab? The Empire State Building?’ Liam insisted.

Tim was quiet for a long moment. He took a swig of beer, and then sighed. 

‘I didn’t go to America.’ Tim admitted.

‘What? Why not? What happened? Did they reject your Visa or something? I thought we’d sorted it all out.’

‘I couldn’t face it. I got so scared about everything, just so overwhelmed.’ Tim said.

‘But this was America, you’ve always wanted to go.’ 

‘I do love the American thing, but it’s more about the vibe, the sports, the culture. It’s not about a specific place. It’s more of an attitude, a state of mind. I don’t know, I can’t explain it.’

‘So what did you do?’ Liam asked.

‘I managed to get the tickets refunded and went to the seaside in Wales instead. I found a cracking American diner on the way down though.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom