I have a little secret that I've learned over the years, I should just keep to myself: I don't like baseball. I know that's unAmerican and all that. I don't like ice cream with my apple pie, either. I don't drink beer and I don't listen to country music.
As far as baseball goes, really, if I want to watch a bunch of hurry up and wait, I could probably go to Disney World during a holiday, wait in line for 2 hours for a ride (an actual play) that takes about 10 seconds. And then go back to the waiting while feasting on hot dogs and candy.
And another thing, baseball is America's pastime, not America's sport. It really does pass time. In my humble opinion, it's not really a sport at all. I mean, really, if you can scratch your balls and/or chew a wad of tobacco, bubble gum, or sunflower seeds, in the middle of a play. Then really, that's not a sport. Don't even get me started about golf.
I'm not a fan of baseball. If my secret boyfriend (so secret he doesn't even know about it) Bob Costas were to do a segment on a baseball gig, I'd probably watch. Or if I need to nap, then baseball really works for me.
My precious pals, though, are all up in Facebook status updates this week. Yallison is a Detroit fan, MyDaph is a Ranger's fan. I had no idea it was the playoffs until a few facebook statuses ago. I stated my claim that I am impartial. (ie - I don't care).
I still don't care, until I realize that the Cardinals are in this playoff thing too. And then it just got personal.
Long ago, I married into Ricardo's family. Ricardo has a big family, including two Uncles - Uncle Father Dale who passed away a few years ago, and Uncle Rich.
Uncle Father Dale would come to visit, and sit and hold my sweet babes as he rocked in the recliner. We'd talk about life and philosophy and recipes. He was my favorite guest, and I am grateful for that very precious time I had with him. But if he was visiting during a game, there was an understood rule, he only visits with one person, Uncle Rich. They would watch the game and discuss via their cell phones. After Uncle Father Dale passed away, I kind of forgot about that love of baseball and the Cardinals that he shared with Uncle Rich.
Uncle Rich is a 77-year-old really cool cat. He's also visited with us before, but I guess it wasn't during baseball season, because he let my kids read to him. And he didn't even murmur, "Quiet kid, the game is on..." Nothing of the sort. I don't get to see Uncle Rich much, but always look forward to it any chance we get.
In the meantime, Uncle Rich's son, I guess my cousin, he might have taken a job with the Rangers. Like, an executive position.***Disclaimer to all my Texas peeps getting a big fat idea: Although Uncle Rich knows and loves us, Cousin Ranger's Exec probably doesn't remember my name. So, don't go calling me up asking for tickets.
My point with this very awesome story is that Uncle Rich loves baseball and the Cardinals, and now has access to VIPishness at the Rangers' stadium.
And so, MyDaph and Yallison, and baseball god's THAT is why I'm hereby vested in the damned baseball playoffs. That, and this is a little bit over the charachter limits on Facebook status updates. I need the Rangers and the Cardinals to win this series so that my Uncle Rich, one of the greatest Cardinal fans of all times, who has been waiting 77 years for this - to be able to get to watch his Cardinals play in the world series. He needs to do this for Uncle Father Dale and himself, and humanity. If you have the power to pray for frivolous things, please by all means, say a prayer for my Uncle Rich to watch his Cardinals play in the World Series.
It's a Bob Costas moment just waiting to happen. I promise to love baseball for that tiny moment of pastime. If baseball can give that one moment for my Uncle Rich, then maybe, just maybe, I'll become a fan. But please, my kids are watching, no balls scratching. That's nasty.
That's how I roll
Song of the Day: Who's On First? by Abbot & Costello
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