Steve and I have got ourselves a babysitter. (Large grin.) On Saturday at 8:00, a shy thirteen year old who twists her hair and watches HBO on our sofa arrived. And we ran out the front door to a local pub.
Davey's has Guinness on tap and grandma at the bar. Jersey girls arrived with their parents, and a bachelor party of construction workers stumbled in. Steve and I sat at the bar gossiping with the bartender and watching the ballgame.
When I was thirteen, my dad started taking us to ballgames, because he thought that dads were supposed to do that. He hated it, but he wanted to be a good dad. Daaaad, it's an inning, not a down.
Thurman Munson was catching. Chris Chambliss on first. Greg Nettles on third. And Reggie was up. Which was great because it was Reggie Day and we were all holding our complimentary Reggie bars. When Reggie blew that ball into the stands in right field, we all lovingly tossed our chocolate bars onto the field. He ran the bases amidst the falling chocolate bars like a Roman lord showered with palms.
What's a Yankee fan to do? There is no fucking way that I can root for the Sox. It just isn't happening. I guess that means I have to cheer on the Cards. I'm not excited about it, but I just can't stand gloating Boston fans.
I think that's what most people feel about this election. They are not excited about Kerry, but they just can't let Bush win. A vote for Kerry is a vote against Bush. Those motives don't exactly drive voters to the booths. It's probably a bad sign for Kerry, that after a while the bartender turned off the World Series last night. Nobody was interested.