"Truck His Ass" Or The Pursuit

"Truck his ass" is what I said when I saw Howard coming home on Damon's throw.
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My wife and I watched the first game of the World Series. She has no idea about baseball. No idea whatsoever. But she and I enjoyed the game. The Phillies won.

I hate the Yankees. I have never liked them. It really started when they came back against the Braves in '96. I never thought they could get four wins in six games against the Braves' starters. But even before then, my grandfather told me to not like teams from New York, especially one named the Yankees.

I am not a big fan of the Phillies or Philadelphia either. I grew up watching the Redskins. Washington fans have very little respect for the other NFC east cities. Philadelphia, New York, and Dallas don't get "my team isn't playing" fandom.

But I enjoyed game one, prefer the National League to the American League, Charlie Manuel is from Virginia, and I started rooting for the Phillies. I couldn't watch Game 2, and they lost. I stopped wanting to watch the games. I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle watching a baseball game, caring about the outcome, but knowing that my desired outcome probably won't happen kills me.

I don't want to watch anything sports related especially with the Redskins the laughingstock of the NFL and the Hokies choking away another season. And here I was enjoying the beautiful game of baseball in HD, and I don't even hate this Yankees team as much as usual (except Joe Girardi), but once I have a rooting interest, I can't watch the damn game without increases in blood pressure and yelling. I find the whole thing sad.

Then I am watching Mad Men, and President Kennedy gets assassinated. I remember September 11th and April 16th. I remember that baseball and sports and most everything else is a distraction from the only important thing:

Life.