Oct. 19th, 2004 01:00 pm
Come lately?
I must admit, despite the high geek factor among my Friends, I'm surprised that
my_tallest is the first to even mention (and then only in passing) the fact that, like, there's a pennant race going on. Yeah yeah, sports are stupid, there are much more important things in the world then who wins a damn game, rooting for a team is vulgar tribalism, yadda yadda yadda. I admit that, despite being a lifelong Cardinals fan, I've been paying only half attention, expecting them to walk all over those upstart Astros. Well I'm awake now!
I stumbled into consciousness last night after Chinese class when I popped into Big Chicks for my $11.75 dollar burger (once one figures in cheese, tips, beers, and such). Initially, I paid no interest to the game being televised all around me. NY and the Sox had already gone nine innings by then. But after an hour or so, I was on the edge of my seat waiting to see what would happen next. I was fascinated by the concentration on Loaiza's face even as I found myself rooting for each Red Sox batter in turn. I hissed when Jeter stepped up to the plate and laughed when he struck out. And I joined half the bar in cheering Ortiz when he brought in the winning run.
I couldn't find anyone who admitted to being a Yankees man; the half who didn't cheer were apathetic, not opposing. One of them was a young guy from my home town, equal parts handsome and drunk, who was outrageously flirting with me. His technique was karaokic: After some initial quips, he began warbling Erasure, Morrisey, and REM into my ear. (Or attempting to--there was a lot of *mumble mumble* in place of lyrics.) When Ortiz stepped up for something like his tenth at-bat of the night, I said to him, "How can you not root for that man?" Poor guy; with competition like that, he didn't have a chance of winning away my affections.
I may just have to pop in again tonight.
I stumbled into consciousness last night after Chinese class when I popped into Big Chicks for my $11.75 dollar burger (once one figures in cheese, tips, beers, and such). Initially, I paid no interest to the game being televised all around me. NY and the Sox had already gone nine innings by then. But after an hour or so, I was on the edge of my seat waiting to see what would happen next. I was fascinated by the concentration on Loaiza's face even as I found myself rooting for each Red Sox batter in turn. I hissed when Jeter stepped up to the plate and laughed when he struck out. And I joined half the bar in cheering Ortiz when he brought in the winning run.
I couldn't find anyone who admitted to being a Yankees man; the half who didn't cheer were apathetic, not opposing. One of them was a young guy from my home town, equal parts handsome and drunk, who was outrageously flirting with me. His technique was karaokic: After some initial quips, he began warbling Erasure, Morrisey, and REM into my ear. (Or attempting to--there was a lot of *mumble mumble* in place of lyrics.) When Ortiz stepped up for something like his tenth at-bat of the night, I said to him, "How can you not root for that man?" Poor guy; with competition like that, he didn't have a chance of winning away my affections.
I may just have to pop in again tonight.
Sports = a different kind of geekery
Me, I'm a one-stop shop for Oklahoma football info, too! I think it's only gotten me de-friended by one person! (And I didn't like her much anyway.)
Re: Sports = a different kind of geekery
Nebraskans on lj? (I'm an ex-pat, myself.)
Re: Sports = a different kind of geekery
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I consider you a real aberration. Baseball, with its emphasis on statistics, is much more of a geek sport than football, with its battlefield tactics. Why aren't any of the engineers I know posting about baseball?
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Kitsune: Hey, the Astros won.
Me: ARE THEY GOING TO THE WORLD SERIES?
Kitsune: No, not yet.
Me: DID THEY WIN THE PENNANT?
Kitsune: No.
Me: When's this pennant thing?
Kitsune: Next go-round.
Me: Argh! Bother me not with quarterfinals!
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Who's your daddy? :-)
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Also, it's not that we're tired of the talk so we aren't talking about it. We're just tired. It's been a crazy 48 hours of baseball. And those 14 hour games at Fenway mean my section of the city has near-daylight conditions from the Fenway Lights on the cloudy sky until earl-aye in the mornin'.