Baseball

I’m SO glad Plato was here. Thanks to Plato, I can love the Idea of Big League Baseball without having to love Major League Baseball. I can go to a game and enjoy the park, the grass, the food the crowd and not mind so much that most of the players are spoiled, pampered babies who just don’t get it.

Thank you, Plato.

I bring this up because after seven years of not seeing a Major League Baseball game, I am going tomorrow. My home team’s opening day is tomorrow. I can’t wait for the mystique of Opening Day. It should be a nice day, if storms don’t destroy us all. I can’t wait for the crack of the bats, the smell of the grass, the roars of the crowd, the food and the beer.

Have you ever noticed how beer tastes better outside? Whether it is on a porch of a Buffalo Wild Wings or on your own porch when you’re grilling, beer just tastes better outside. Beer at a ball park is a whole new…well, ball game. It’s like fizzy, liquid sex in a an over-priced collectable plastic cup!

I’ll ignore asteroids. I’ll ignore contract disputes. I’ll try no to mind so much when I have to pay $20 to park. I’ll just pretend that Big League Baseball is its Ideal Platonic Form. I hope for a bunt, although it won’t be likely since it is an American League game. I’m hoping for a squeeze play. I’m hoping to get an opportunity to explain to my wife the Infield Fly Rule. I’m hoping a fly ball lands in my beer! Just kidding about that. I will protect my beer!

Thank you, Plato.

Play ball!