Baseball at the Big D

BOOOOOORRRINGGGGG !!!
This sums up my feeling for the game. From now on I swear to keep my viewing of this game to the bare minimum. If I have to deal with a few minutes of it in a movie or a series I watch, then yes, I might decide to not yawn, but otherwise, Dear GOD !!! the beer was the only reason I sat through (read as survived) this horrendous form of torture. After two mega glasses, the absolute senselessness of this game and its little quirks, took a left at “I don’t know whats going on and I don’t care” and kept going right past “what makes any one of you think I care” and ended at “Can we go home now ????” FINALLLLLLLLY someone said it was over and I cheered like a Maniac. At least it was over, not like I cared who won.

Now don’t get me wrong, I think Baseball is an integral part of the American experience, like a Hot Dog from Gray’s Papaya in NY, or the Grand Canyon. I just wish they had found a way to simply put it into a half hour or something. Then I could have spent the rest of the time looking for something better to waste my time with. My entertainment throughout this game was the 2 little people in front of us who would turn around every 3 minutes to give us a near toothless grin. They were at the age when you have more gum than tooth and silver dollars for every tooth fairy visit. This is apparently the same age when the only time you are interested in Baseball is when you can play on your Little league team, not watch big stinky men play instead.

They were still at the point when it was alllll about the game and not the money, not the endorsements, and definitely not the politics. I envied them for a moment, their pure innocence in the game. A game that bored me to tears, but still, a game they loved.

And then there was the funny looking old man who followed us from the stadium, while talking about how he was such a huge supporter or some team or the other, and then tried to convince us to let him onto the train station, however, he didn’t have a ticket and a friend told us that this was a common scam.

It was commonly scary though. Nothing else. All I wanted to do was to get back to Tom’s car and get home. Home then was Signature Blvd and the microwave that would give me beautiful coffee. Funny how home to me for the past 3 years has been my suitcase, more than a place.