I didn't post last night for one reason and one reason only; I went to bed feeling like someone had taken a lug wrench to my marbles. Down 6-1 in the bottom of the ninth, Big Papi got his mojo on and hit a grand slam to scratch within 1 run, only to see the boys fall short. I went from depressed to walking on air to googling "Nut Houses" all in about a 10 minute period.
So tonight when I got home from work, got on the computer and saw we were down 4-0 (on the computer, because MLB and it's stupid exclusive contract with FOX controls Saturday afternoon baseball. And in another example of it's extreme stupidity, North Carolina is considered to be in the Atlanta Braves home market.) I was suddenly glad I wasn't gobbling TUMS and cursing out Daisuke under my breath.
So we ate dinner and Ang and I took Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum out for some ice cream. Driving home I get a text from Jr, and as usual he's being his gloom and doom self, ranting something about "Why am I yelling GET OUT BALL when I know how this song ends?" and before I can text him back he's calling me to tell me some outlandish tale of a 3 foot long fish he caught today.
But right in the middle of the biggest lie about fish since Captain Ahab, he yells out "Papi did it! It's off the wall..... three runs score..... they WIN!" and Rakes is hollering in the background and I'm pounding the steering wheel and Trot is obliviously watching "Toy Story" on the tv in the Man Van.
It hit me a little while later.
Baseball brought a 40 year old Dad together with a 24 year old New England native who became good enough friends to call each other on a Saturday night in July to talk about fishing and end up celebrating a walk-off win by our favorite team.
Reason 5,831 why I love this game.
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