The Four S's, part trois


I like sports. Namely, Baseball. I played soccer growing up, but my interest in that has tailed off a bit. As far as what to watch on TV, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, beats baseball in October. I don't get much done during October. I like the wild card race, the Division series, the Championship series, and then, most of all, the beloved World Series of Baseball. Although limited to America only, I think the name is grandfathered in seeing as how it's been going on for more than a hundred years. I think America was the only country at the time that played ball, so we're ok there. (I remember this guy in France who thought that since we called it the World Series, we were being unilateral. He felt this was another symbol of American selfishness. He didn't even like baseball. Go figure.)

The best baseball team (not necessarily because of winning records, or pitching, or hitting, or anything else that qualifies a team as being the best) are the Baltimore Orioles. I've never set foot on the east cost, so how, you ask, did I come to enjoy such a fine baseball team as the Birds? I'll tell you, if you'll shut up.

I moved around somewhat as a kid, but I lived for 6 years in Dallas, Texas, from ages 8 to 14. When I was about 12, my friend had his birthday party at a Texas Rangers game. This was at Ranger Stadium, well before construction of the Ball Park in Arlington. Anyway, they were hosting Cal Ripken Jr's Orioles, and I wanted to be the odd man out. All my friends were going for the Rangers, so went for the Orioles. I picked the Oriole cup to hold my ice cream, I cheered when they got a hit, and rubbed it in their faces when Baltimore took the game, 11-4. That's all it took. I began looking in the sports section of the paper every morning to see if Baltimore won, without being able to name a single player on their roster. That soon changed, and I began collecting baseball cards. I lost interest after the strike, and regrettably, didn't even watch Cal beat Gehrig's streak. Since my return from France, I've gotten right back into it and I have a nice little line of compressed hair where my Orioles hat pushes itself into my skull.

Sports rock.

P.S. When basketball season starts, I'll ramble about the Jazz, my favorite basketball team.

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