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.
