Baseball

My family has been utterly apathetic about sports for three generations, and I'm largely faithful to that tradition. However, I began to follow baseball in 2003 thanks largely to my then-roommate's interest in the Chicago Cubs and their exciting but ill-fated pennant race of that year. In listening to many games and attending my share of games at Wrigley Field, The Metrodome, Fenway Park, Miller Park, Busch Stadium, and The Great American Ballpark, I've concluded that the following have no place in baseball:

• Booing a pitcher for trying to pick off a runner. No matter which team is pitching, this is not cool. In fact, booing in general should be reserved for only the most heinous on-field crimes, or maybe off-field events such as a player's moving to a rival team due to free agency.


• Corollary: booing any player on your own team is not ok, unless he just ate a puppy on the field or something similarly awful. A batter repeatedly chasing bad pitches or two outfielders colliding and dropping a routine fly warrants a disappointed "ohhh" or an aggrieved "come on, man," but not booing.
  


• The Wave. It looks stupid in a diamond-shaped ballpark. Leave it for European soccer hooligans. This counts doubly for the ancient temples of baseball such as Wrigley Field and Fenway Park, where The Wave ought to be grounds for immediate expulsion.
  


• The words "offense" and "defense." I believe the words you're looking for are "batting" and "fielding." "Pitching," too. Admittedly, I'm no authority in the subject, and "offense" and "defense" aren't strictly wrong, but they just seem ill-suited to baseball.
  


• Jumbotron messages telling the crowd to "make some noise" at critical moments. If you were paying attention to the game, you'd know when extra cheering is appropriate. If you're not paying attention to the game, why are you there?
  


• Leaving early if your team is losing. Maybe it's okay to leave early if your team is being crushed and it's raining really, really hard. Worse yet, some people leave early even when their team is winning - presumably to "beat the rush." Why did you bother coming to the game at all?
  


• Crying. There's no crying in baseball.

Lest this be solely a series of complaints, I'll conclude with my favorite baseball moments.

• Once, at the Metrodome, Lisa kicked another fan in the head while getting into her seat. The kick was an accidental tap against the noggin of a gentlemen seated in the row ahead of us, and she apologized profusely. He laughed it off and joked, "now you owe me a beer." Later, Lisa actually did buy him a beer, and the surprised gentleman tipped his cap, his faith in humanity no doubt restored.
  


• The Miller Park Sausage Race is the best break-in-the-action entertainment ever. Grown men wear costumes representing various meat products and run around the field.


• Any time the Cubs play a night game on the west coast while Lisa and I are driving to Minnesota. Thanks to the joy of AM radio propagation at night, we can pick up WGN all the way to the Twin Cities. Regardless of the team's performance, Cubs radio broadcasting is top-notch. Also, Lisa loves Ron Santo.
  

Mini-possum

Lisa and I saw this yesterday while walking down a residential street in Evanston.

It's a baby opossum, Didelphis virginiana! This minuscule marsupial was just a few inches long - note the blades of grass for scale. We heard some rustling and a strange whistling or squeaking sound under a bush near the sidewalk, and there it was. Perhaps surprisingly, 'possums are pretty cute when they're little.

When I was about ten, a 'possum briefly took up residence in our garage. It relaxed on the workbench, apparently confident that its scrofulous visage and toothy jaws glistening with methatherian drool would keep most anyone at bay. The beast eventually left the premises on its own.

Amazingly, there are at least two non-profit organizations dedicated specifically to 'possums: The National Opossum Society and The Opossum Society of the United States. The web site of the latter features an animated GIF of a 'possum wagging its tail; they also sell 'possum earrings. Too bad I learned about this right after Lisa's birthday.

Whoa.

Rex tremendae majestatis,
qui salvandos salvas gratis:
salva me, Fonz pietatis.

I crack myself up.

Strong men also cry

Two summers ago, I got misty-eyed when I saw a Johnsonville Brats commercial on television. I was really excited for a trip Up North, and, as best I can tell, the televised sausages brought with them the knowledge that summer's consummation was nearly at hand: soon, I would be savoring Sheboygan County's best-loved pork product as loons wailed in the distance.

I feel no shame in weeping tears of joy over broadcast bratwurst. Strong men also cry, Mr. Lebowski; strong men also cry.

Ne plus ultra

So that's what Shel Silverstein was talking about.