Two Shots of Happy, One Shot of Sad

The A's and Cards have advanced and the Dodgers are done. (Sorry Warren!)

 

The first major sport I loved was baseball.  It was one boy's fault, and then a whole bunch of others.  I loved go to games and hang out with my friends, and somehow my brain can retain stats and scores and batting averages.  We used to play a game where Warren or his dad would name a state and I would name all the pro teams in all the major sports. For example, the Dodgers, Padres, Angels, As, Giants, Raiders, 49ers, Chargers, Warriors, Clippers, Lakers, Sharks, Kings and the no longer "Mighty" Ducks.  Or how about the Thrashers, Hawks, Falcons and Braves?  The Caps, Redskins, Wizards and Nationals.  I could do this all night long.  These little games got me into the bigger one.

 

So, years go by and I moved away from the ballparks.  Years go by and I am lucky to get to one baseball game a year (this year it wasn't even a whole game).  Years go by and my head has been turned by hockey and a hundred other things have my heart.  It's easy to love a game that involves a large, empty sheet of ice.  It's easy to love a game that requires every single player to get their turn, to have a chance, to take a shot.  It's easy to love a game where people fight actually for each other.  The superstar egos have no place (not on my team, anyway).  It's easy to love a game that, on any given night, anyone can be the hero. 

 

Plus, hockey players are tough, strong men.  How many baseball players are scratched because they have blisters and can't pitch? 

 

Even at that, each October, just as the year before, I come back to where I started.  I'm hoping to see the A's and the Card's get to the World Series.  I'll never tell who I want to win from there -- I'll be disowned either way.