Go Team Go

As sort of an unofficial weekly tradition, my niece and i go to lunch almost every Saturday. it's really sweet and i look forward to it as "our" time. we stopped for a while, just because she had ballgames and we were just genuinely busy every weekend.
Anyhoo...

this past weekend, we were sitting in one of SI's 4 Applebees (does any town/borough need 4 Applebees? i don't think so) when she started talking to me about baseball. it truly amazed me that this girl, 20 years my junior, knows more about baseball than anyone i know. we're talking team and individual player batting averages, stats, etc. If she told me that Derek Jeter had 12 birthmarks behind his left knee, in the shape of the constellation Cancer, i'd believe her. she's that good. what's even more ironic and comedic (and pathetic) is that her knowledge of baseball is in direct correlation to my lack of knowledge; as smart as she is, is as dumb as i am.

we sat there for well over an hour, in which time she explained the breakdown of the National and American leagues; apparently the two leagues are divided into three subsections: AL East, AL West and something for the middle (AL Square-States?) ditto for the NL. then she went through a 20 minute monologue on how the All-Star teams are picked for both leagues. she let me ask as many questions and i needed to, explained using appropriately small words and spoke slowly as not to confuse me; she didn't condescend once during the entire tutorial. it was like having lunch with Jimmy the Greek in pigtails.

now, don't get me wrong, i think it's terrific that she's got such a wealth of information at her disposal (Auntie Mame was right: knowledge is power) i could listen to her talk about it for hours (despite my dis-interest in the actual topic). i'm just slightly envious that she knows so much and is interested in baseball as much as she is. when i was her age i honestly couldn't care less about sports, especially baseball. Ok, that really hasn't changed much, but still...i was on a little league team for about 5 years and the only the only things i remember were being hit by the ball and consequently rushed to the hospital (3 times) and standing in deep deep right field (that's the one behind the pitcher, right?) picking flowers to give to my mom between innings (i'm not joking). all the rest is a blur of boredom, discomfort and fear of leatherbound projectiles. we also went to a couple of Mets games when i was a kid, but all i remember of them is Hotdogs and the big foam finger; oh and Hat Night! i was very happy when we'd go on Hat night.

ironic that i actually felt compelled to "come out", right?

She and i aren't going to lunch this weekend (Stephen and i have a Pampered Chef show to do in Queens, and she has a birthday party), but i'm sure we'll go next weekend. i hope so, she promised to explain why the Designated Hitter rule has killed the game of baseball.

"Well I was just wonderin' why you would throw home when we got a two-run lead. You let the tying run get on second base and we lost the lead because of you. Start using your head. That's the lump that's three feet above your ass"~ Tom Hanks (A League of Their Own)