First of all, under ideal conditions baseball requires of its fans three full hours of sitting outside in the sunshine. And there’s not much that’s wrong with that.
For less than the cost of a movie ticket, if you’re lucky enough to live in a town with a minor league team, you can spend your evening listing to the sound of the train whistle, drinking a beer or three, a watching the giant Italian sausage race the giant Polish kielbasa around the bases between innings.
And since baseball takes a while to play, there’s a correspondingly relaxed vibe in the stands. Even the guys who’ve had a beer or six tend to behave like colorful cut-ups rather than violent douchebags.
And finally — even if your team takes a pounding (as the Rochester Red Wings did last night to the Toledo Mud Hens) and even if you’re coming off a six-game losing streak (as the Phillies are tonight) — you have to work pretty hard to not have a good time at the ballpark.
Take me out to the ballgame.
“Their second album was more adventurous but less commercially successful than their first …”
Mr. Goddess finds it’s barren on the Burren.
“… and this is the tree where they grow all the Guinness.”
Don’t even think of entering here. As far as you’re concerned, the rest of the planet beyond this point is out of bounds.
Mr. Goddess and I are back from a rather spontaneous five-day vacation to Ireland with the lovely Swartzes and the lovely Keilys and it was all quite lovely.
Don’t believe me? Check this out:
Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. You don’t see that running out to the Home Depot in Langhorne, now do ya?
I blame laziness, overwork, and a generalized case of Spring Fever for the recent quietness here on the blog front. But I shall have plenty to write about, as soon as a return from my mystery vacation next week.
For the PBS or CBC viewers among you, here is a hint to my vacation destination:
Ah, Go On!
I’m starting to suspect that the trees of Rochester will remain grey-brown twigs forever.
You can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning!
Guy at the bar at the Tap and Mallet.
“Some day my Spring will come…”
I’m cheating somewhat. That photo is from last Sunday, and as of today the snow has all melted and the first snowdrops have started to bloom.
It finally feels like Spring is in the air, and Rochester sure could use it. It hasn’t risen much above 20 degrees since Christmas. Monday was so cold, it was actually making me angry.