October 27, 2019
“Kay is fast approaching baseball
fanaticism.”
I can’t tell you how proud I am of Kay’s newly
acquired knowledge of baseball. She’s got the vocabulary and everything. No
doubt, I married way above my… uh, level of marrying people. I can’t think of the right word for that at
the moment.
I’ve
made it a point to introduce Kay to the two sports I most enjoy -- football
and, to a lesser extent, baseball. I’ve talked to Kay more about football than
any other sport. She even agreed to play in our family’s Thanksgiving and
Christmas Hayter Bowl games. She never caught a pass, never blocked anyone, and
definitely never made a tackle. Of course, I had to bring her down a couple of
times just to give her a feel for the game.
I
gave up playing football after detaching my Achilles tendon in one of our
family’s Turkey Day Games. Kay feigned disgust about my injury, but she was
such a faker. Since then, I’ve been relegated to merely watching football.
While watching a taped football game, I’ll occasionally draw Kay’s attention to
a spectacular play. I’ll rewind to give her a look-see. Kay will force her gaze away from her Kindell
just long enough to see a guy making a one-handed catch immediately before
getting pounded by two defensive backs. Kay is likely to respond, “Oh, that was
definitely worth watching. The two purple players really ran into that guy
hard, didn’t they?” – I’m really up against it. Know what I mean?
Baseball
is an entirely different matter. I don’t have the time nor inclination to watch
a game, and Kay is just pleased as pistachios about that. Unfortunately, our
friends, the Plilers, had to come to our house to watch three of the Astros’
games. Virginia and Freeman recently moved into a new house and are still
waiting to have their TV Cable installed. They rented a motel room so they
could watch the fifth game the Astros played against the Yankees. When I heard
that, I begged them to watch the next game at our house. I believe my actual words
were, “For half of what you’re paying on a motel room, you can come over and
watch the game with us.” Virginia told me that Kay had already invited them
over.
Kay,
who knows nothing about baseball, yet, invites Virginia, the Priestess of
Astroism, over to watch a game that lasts about five hours. Freeman would’ve
just as soon stayed in a motel room, but he agreed to come along. Free is no
trouble whatsoever. He’ll do anything for me. The guy has never even yelled at
me. If he ever got mad at anything or anybody, he never showed it. Yep, put him
in the guestroom, assign him a few chores to do, and he’s got a home with a TV
that works. However, Virginia is high maintenance and is lousy at chores.
But,
back to baseball, I do not have the patience to watch a complete game of major
league ball. Virginia is completely eaten up with the Astros. I doubt she’s
ever missed a game in the last decade or two. In case you’re unaware, Major
League Baseball teams play 162 games a year. That’s the equivalent of watching
1296 episodes of “Gilligan’s Island”…
Little Buddy.
This
year, I managed to miss every Astros game up until the last one with the
Yankees. Granted, I didn’t watch much of it, but I did see Altuve hit the
winning home run. I whistled, Virginia screamed, Freeman said, “Well, good!” and Kay said, “Did we win?”
During
game one of the World Series, I was out of town and missed all the excitement
and fun. Kay and the Plilers were on
their own. I did manage to make it home mid-way through the second game.
Remember, the one where the Astros really got trounced? I was a bit miffed at
the score and let my miffedness be known to all. That’s when Virginia said, “I’ve
got two words for you. ‘Rudy Tomjanovich.’”
“Hmm.”
That’s what I said. “Hmm.” The two words were moving. They about moved me right
out of the room. Virginia picked up on that and said, “Never underestimate the
power of a champion.” – Seven words from
an ex-basketball coach offered up when the score in the baseball game was eight
to two. Inspiring indeed.
Fortunately,
I stuck around to the bitter end. That’s when I learned how much Virginia had
taught Kay about baseball. At one point someone hit into a double play. Virginia
turned to Kay and said, “What do we call that?” Kay thought for a couple of
seconds and then said, “A blooper?” I thought it just as cute as could be.
Virginia politely corrected her.
 |
| Springer Dinger |
A
little while later when our lead-off batter, Springer, came to the plate,
Virginia asked Kay what we wanted him to do. Kay said, “Hit a dinger.” Virginia
said, “Right! Springer Dinger.” Kay then tried to impress me by saying,
“Darling, we don’t like Joe Buck.” Joe Buck was the announcer. The guy has
announced just about every sport there is. Football, baseball, track, figure
skating… I asked Kay why we didn’t like Joe Buck, but she didn’t know. Virginia
bailed her out. “He hates the Astros,” she said. “And, he won’t shut-up!” Kay
nodded in agreement.
Kay
then asked me what the Washington Nationals logo was. I told her that it was just
a “W” written in cursive. She said, “No. It stands for Walgreens.” Kay then
asked who came up with the idea to play the organ at baseball games. When I
told her I had no idea she said she didn’t either. She was just asking.
Even
after the Plilers left, Kay was telling me the nicknames of all the Astros
players. I don’t know if they were legitimate nicknames or the ones that the
Priestess of Astroism deemed appropriate. I’m fairly sure the names were not
coined by Joe Buck We don’t like him. I’ll have to remember that.
end
No comments:
Post a Comment