Wait, what? What the heck is this? Rain? Cold? Wind? Oh, nay nay, ye Gods of The Weathere, back thy jaunpiece OFF.
Although I do need the rain, because watering my new flowerbeds and my dead grass has become Tedious. (The capital T is how you know I am not playin’.)
Luckily, last night had no such nastiness, it was warm and sunny and windless, so my parents and I went to the Phils game, with great seats about 18 rows back from Ryan Howard’s enormous butt. (Sarah, who doesn’t fit in any normal human seat at this point because of the enormous wiggling creature that takes up most of her frame, took a pass.) It would have been a really great experience, but Ryan Madsen gave up roughly 8,000 runs in one inning of work (he actually pitched to four guys in the 2nd inning, but got no one out, so his effort technically consisted of 1.0 inning). That put us in a surly mood for most of the rest of the game, such that I realized why I avoid going to sporting events most of the time.
When it comes down to it, I just don’t care for people very much. I like to be around my friends, but when it comes to the “unwashed masses,” I come away with one realization: the average person, or at least the average American, has absolutely no concept of the idea of unselfish behavior. It’s not that we, as individuals, go out of our way to make other people’s lives harder, but that we never even consider that perhaps, standing up in the middle of the section with your cell phone, waving to some other idiot in another section to convey the vastly important message that “Yes, I can see you, can you see me? I’m right down here! In section 114! Standing directly between Matt Hearn and the activities occurring on the baseball diamond!” might be really, really annoying to others.
I realize that merely making this generalization makes me a selfish snob, but it’s worth noting that I really can’t stand being in another person’s way. When I make a mistake while driving, and realize I’ve blocked an intersection of some kind that a person needs to turn into, I pull forward, even around other cars in an effort to get out of the way. Meanwhile, some jerk at the ballpark yesterday blocked an entire staircase to the seats while arguing with the usher about why he couldn’t take his lit cigarette down there with him.
This is to say nothing of the general behavior of people my age when you get 2 or 3 of them together in public. There was once a time when using foul language in a public place like a baseball game would get you removed from the premises. The stadium rules say that you can still ask to get people kicked out for cursing, but where do you start, when everyone around you is dropping f-bombs like they got paid for it? (In the interests of full disclosure: I curse. A lot. In the privacy of my home, the general conversation would cause sailors to weep. But I turn on the filters in the presence of the general public and my wife’s relatives.)
I would no sooner take a child to a baseball game these days than I would take him to a strip club. The discourse is about the same, anyway.
We did have fun, though. My parents hadn’t been to CB Park before, so they got to enjoy the new stadium, as well as get Bull’s BBQ (I had a smoked turkey leg, totally righteous), and we all got free Jimmy Rollins knit hats. Mine, of course, fits on my head like a beanie.
Tonight: Baby Birthin’ Breathin’ and Belchin’ Class!
