T.

Once again avoided the invasion of warplanes
by going to a Mariners/Red Sox game. Idyllic
(is that spelled correctly?) Sunday afternoon,
perfectly ambient temps, in the company of my
two lovely sons, my delightful fiance, and his
sweet son and girlfriend. The world felt right,
felt like I had a complete family again.
Reilly ever-hopeful for a fly-ball with his mitt!
There are so many things about baseball to love --
(let's not talk about the $$$$, please!)
there are the infinite number of stats, the goofy
organ music, the precision of a double play,
the 7th inning stretch, the peanuts in the shell
(there would be a lot less cleanup post-game
if peanuts were only sold shelled!), the ice-cream
sundaes sold in tiny upside-down batting helmets,
the fact that the team managers (coaches) wear
uniforms! They are so cute, out there looking
like overgrown little-leaguers. This sport still
contains a lot of the elements of play,
something not found as often in, say, football.
And there is the communal aspect of the fans,
the striking-up of conversations with strangers
sitting beside you, comparing stats or players
or stadiums. It's mostly good-natured, and civilised.
I like it.