Life in the suburban grandstand.
So I was at Zach’s baseball game. The poor kid is grossly oversported. I dunno why I cram so much sports down the child’s throat, but I do. Karate, soccer, baseball, basketball, hockey…everything except for the only sport that matters around here – football. I hate hype, and football is 99% hype. Besides, he’s skinny. Anyways, as I was sayin…I was at Zach’s game. Being the final game of the “regular” season, several mom’s felt the need to celebrate via a giant vat of Margaritas. Having been a stay-at-home dad not long ago, I can easily slip into girl-talk mode, blabbing it up with the other moms. I was on my second beverage (Lordy those drinks were strong!), talking a load of jibber-jabber, not paying ANY attention to the game, when I heard a bunch of shouting: HEADS UP, LOOK OUT, ITS A FOUL BALL! Those atomic Margaritas must have jacked my reaction time, because by the time I processed the information, the incoming missile had blasted me in the leg. Oh the laughs we had.
*Paul Harvey voice* And now, the rrrrest of the story:
Several innings later I learned that the towering foul ball had been hit by Zach. Nice.
LOL!
look at you getting all Desperate Housewives with the girls! so who’s sleeping with the gardener this week?
The moral of the story is: if you’re going to make your kid play sports, the least you could do is pay attention.
Heck, if potent margaritas can’t make baseball more interesting, perhaps nothing can.
I agree with football being 99% hype. Just play the damn game already! That isn’t as bad as when I hit my mom and girlfriend with a foul ball in the same game. And they weren’t drinking.