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Come lately?
I must admit, despite the high geek factor among my Friends, I'm surprised that ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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.
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.