OK, we can go to the ballgame. Uncle Earl called tonight and offered my family 4 tickets to tonight's Padre game. I discovered something about myself; I really don't understand baseball. I get the catching the ball and hitting and throwing it, but I don't get all the strategy and that makes me mad. Mad because the drunkard lady sitting next to my friend and hitting in him in the ribs anytime anything happened seem to understand everything that was going on. It's like in high school when I played basketball. It would be the last minute of an important game and we were in a timeout. The coach was telling us something, writing on a white board and then the whistle blew and I was back on the court watching everybody run a play. Huh, I guess I should have listened in the huddle.
I have the attention span of a small dog, with a head injury.
Getting back to the whole baseball problem. I want to learn, I want to grow and understand stats and sacrifice flies and taking one in the head for the team. That reminds me, I was really good at that. I could always get on base; the helmet really took the brunt of most of the pitch.
What were we talking about?
Oh yes butterflies.
