[for May 20]
I’m not sure there’s a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than at the ball park, drinking pinot grigio, munching on barbecue nachos, and then going home and passing out on the couch.
I’d forgotten how much I love baseball. I used to be positively obsessed with it, which may shock those who are familiar with my current attitude toward sports. As a tween and teen, I subscribed to Baseball Weekly and regularly read Sports Illustrated, and I taped and catalogued literally every televised Braves game for at least two years. My dad and I regularly talked inside-baseball stuff, and I’d try to emulate my favorite players on the softball field.
JD brought along his glove today in case any foul balls made their way toward our seats. I miss how the smell of leather and dirt used to mean summer to me.
How the hell did I miss you at the game? D’oh.
I had no idea..subscription to BA..wow..that’s relatively hard-core!
We HAVE to talk..
nice snap, btw
B, I didn’t know you were there! D’oh, indeed.
John, now that I think about it, did Baseball Weekly exist? I can’t find it online, except the USA Today thing by the same name. Was that the same thing? Hmm. Maybe it was something else.
Anyway, you’ll be sad to know that I’ve all but forgotten all of my precious baseball knowledge. I couldn’t for the life of me describe what the hell the infield fly rule is anymore. Sad!
I like settle into a nice drunk bliss at Nashville Sounds games, too, although I bet the Redbirds are more fun to watch.