America’s pastime

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Having grown up in the Dallas area with
no baseball team but the Texas
Rangers to root for, I have never been a big fan of the sport. I tried to play
for one season in elementary school, but I got stuck in right field and faced
pitchers who couldn’t find the strike zone and instead threw as if a target
were painted on my left leg. I got walked a lot, but it was never pleasant.
Anyway,
I’m saying this because for some bizarre, alien reason, professional baseball
is trumping blogging tonight. I saw Houston lose a heartbreaker to St. Louis.
I hope the
Astros can pull it out in game 7. Now I’m watching the NY Yankees get their
gluteus maximi handed to them by the Boston Red Sox, and I’m loving every minute
of it.
I never had an opinion about the Yankees before I moved to New York. I still
have no preference nor dislike for the team itself, but I cannot stand Yankees
fans. They are absolutely the most obnoxious, fair-weather sports
fans outside of European soccer (no offense). I take a little satisfaction
in the few times they’re humbled. As of this writing, the Red Sox are leading
8–1
in
the sixth inning.

In the meantime, go
read this
. I have linked this site before, but I’m thinking now I may add
it to my permanent links. There’s some powerful and heart wrenching material
here born of life experience and pain in large measure. This post, however, is
a joyful
one, celebrating the arrival of a newborn: "The child is like a teenage boy
– he parties all night, sleeps all day, and is obsessed with breasts." Heh.

Update: The Yankees lose, 10-3. That oughta shut ‘em up for a while.

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