I never thought I'd like baseball but as of last year I do. Being a New York partisan I do support my home team Yankees even though it involves bolstering Goliath and heckling David. But the players are good (ehh, most of the time) and some of them have been on the team for an impossible age (I remember a friend of mine was an avid Jeter fan in...middle school?). I did not tune in much during the regular season, except for a blessed spate of midday games when I was sick earlier this summer, but now that it's the playoffs I'm paying closer attention.
This is bad timing I suppose because the Yankees have been coming apart at the seams. I watched a game with my parents on agitating Monday night, where the team didn't score a single run and I couldn't even hate the opposing pitcher who, no doubt among other good reasons for admiration, is extremely talented and has a son who battled with leukemia. Still, you can't help wincing and glowering a bit as the stadium rises in a standing ovation when someone (my favorite Teixeira of t-shirt "fame", in fact) finally gets to walk to first. Baby steps, I suppose.
Sports can absorb you; my mother had a puzzling Monday night as she tried to figure out just why the Yankees' losing got to her so personally. It's not as bad for me (not as many years watching, perhaps) but I do find myself screaming at the television and trading disparaging and hopeful assessments with sundry coworkers, roommates, and elevator men. (My condolences to R.--, biggest Yankees fan, if you're reading.)
In any event, my three favorite cities have teams in these playoffs. (And by three favorite, I mean Philly last week was gorgeous and the aerial shot of SF's stadium made me want to pack my bags yesterday. And that's coming from me.) C'mon, dudes. It'd be a shame if Texas beat you all.
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