Baseball and that girl who hit me with the ruler

I wish I was a baseball fan.  I really do.  There so much tradition, history, culture, and each MLB team plays like 6 games every day, each of which lasts no less than the length of one term in the US House of Representatives.  There was a time though when I was a loyal fan of America’s Pastime (no, not CONSUMER DEBT, I’m talking about baseball!)  When I was a 10 I used to rush out to the local paper and cut out the box scores and standings of my beloved Kansas City Royals.  Then I would tape the little cut out of letters and numbers in a notebook.  Underneath I would provide super-insightful commentary.  I’m sure it was profound stuff like:

“Homeruns are WAY better than getting hit by the pitch” or “Steve Balboni (real guy) is hitting good” or “The infield fly rule is more mysterious than Area 51” or “The girl who sits in from of me at school smells good, but doesn’t know I exist, so I will keep sniffing sometimes and maybe we’ll be partners for science sometime cuz I always get paired up with that girl who hits me with her ruler and calls me shrimp.”

You know, stuff like that.  Tonight I got to catch a game at the famous Turner Field in Atlanta.  I went with some great guys from work and it was an awesome night.  However, one large problem was that after living in Seattle for a couple years, being it Atlanta in July is pretty much like being on the hot part of the surface of the sun, except with a lot more humidity.  But this was made much more bearable by squeezing into small plastic seats and sitting so close to the people next to me that I’m pretty sure I have to attend their family reunions next year.  Still, the game was super exciting, and I remember that I actually do like watching, but only live.  Baseball on TV is slightly less interesting than watching CSPAN on a day when only one Congressman shows up for work and he decides to take a nap. 

I found myself thoroughly rooting for the home team and also hoping for more moments of extreme awkwardness via the Kiss Cam.  In the final inning they trotted out the Closer (whose name I already forgot), but it was a sight to behold.  They blasted Metallica and showed the guy’s name written in fire on all of the many, many screens in the stadium.  The crowd went wild.  We should all have our own entrance music OR at least a guy/gal that shows up at the very end of the day just to put the kids to bed.  He didn’t disappoint and we left with the euphoric feeling of a sweaty 4-1 victory.

Tonight was great – got to hang out with guys, eat junk food, make fun of the millionaires on the field, AND form covalent bonds with my clothing due to heat.  But on top of all that, I did honestly enjoy the game.  Maybe I’ll have to cut out the box score tomorrow…

Or I could just do this: