I think I’ve mentioned several times to anyone within earshot that perhaps the best way to celebrate Mother’s day is to just give the woman some time to herself and buy her food. Anything above that is gravy: gifts, a day at the spa, flowers, a puppy…all extra, welcome displays of appreciation, but not necessary.
So of course, my family decides it’s a great idea to take me out to a Phillies game, where I have to referee squabbling between the boys.
But at least I didn’t have to get up and buy my own Schmitter (a sandwich--named after the legendary yet reviled 3rd baseman Mike Schmidt--featuring unidentifiable meats and gloppy dressing. In retrospect, it was pretty gross, but I enjoyed it at the time. It’s one of those foods that tastes better at the ballpark.) And I had a beer to go with my Schmitter. One can’t devote themselves to the game more than wolfing down a sloppy Schmitter and drinking a $6.50 cup of beer.
The real reason they took me to the game was because it was Chase Utley Fleece Blanket day--the only way I’ll ever get Chase Utley to lay on top of me. I wouldn’t call myself a soccer mom, but I do cart around the obligatory fleece blanket or two in the van.
Next promotion, maybe the Phillies will come up with something a little edgier: The Chase Utley Warming Massage Lotion. The Chase Utley Deluxe 5-Speed Vibrating Bobblehead. A Role-Playing Adventure with Chase Utley, In Which You’re the Umpire and He’s Been Very, Very Bad. I’d pay for that giveaway.
Unfortunately, the Phillies could only muster up 3 hits and lost this very uninspiring, lazy game on Mother’s day. Still. It was a beautiful, sunny day; I got my blanket; and later we went out for Chinese. All in all, a pretty good Mother’s day.
Showing posts with label baseball. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baseball. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
i got balls
Are my lame posts the result of a life growing lamer by the day?
I try to dig out of my comfort zone from time to time. This school year I bravely signed up to sub, and what could be scarier than entering a roomful of alien snot-nosed kindergartners when you're first-day ragging, without the benefit of a sedative and an extra tampon?
Earlier last year I wore a velour warmup suit and sported an unflattering Farrah hairdo for my performance as nitwit cheated-upon wife Edie in "A Need for Less Expertise," the role that Anne Jackson made famous, well, nowhere. In the main room of a firehall, the audience thisclose, I made myself cry on cue as well as allowed my costar to remove my Keds and massage my feet--an act of selfless courage, particularly for him because my feet in Keds, and out, are probably not an aromatic delight.
So I'm continuing this trend out of my comfort zone by taking a Little League umpiring class. To become a volunteer Little League umpire. Insanely, way far out of anyone's comfort zone, if you ask me.
I've played ball for what...30-hrumphhrumph years now. Oh, bloody hell, closer to 40 than 30. Anyway, it's amazing how much I don't know about the rules.
Last night I walked up the stairs to the meeting room, filled with close to 40 men and boys (if I ever have a band, THAT's the name of it: "40 Men and Boys.") Heads turned as I entered; clearly I was an interloper. Maybe somebody's wifey, come to bring hubby a forgotten snack or something. But no. I looked around confidently, demurely brushed the hair from my eyes, took my jacket off, and sat my tall blond kiss-my-ass self down, armed with a notebook and a pen, ready to learn.
There's a lot to learn.
Mike, an accountant by trade who takes umpiring very, very seriously (so seriously he has an umpire bobblehead in his car--I mean, that's just sick) gave us a slow rundown of what he hoped to accomplish, followed by a true/false test. After a while, I picked up on the fact that all the answers were false, and he was tricking us.
He spent the better part of the evening telling us about safety issues and how important it is not to argue, so already I'm a failure at umping. But one rule he discussed was 7.08(i) which prohibits a runner from "running the bases in reverse order for the purpose of confusing the defense or making a travesty of the game." So a guy on second could theoretically run to first to draw the throw, allowing a runner on third to score...but he'd be breaking the rules. A travesty and a mockery would ensue, probably followed by bedlam.
I just like the wording of the rule: "making a travesty of the game." Like A-Rod's salary doesn't already do that.
Still, it was as interesting as it probably could've been for a 3-hour meeting about umpiring. And there are 3 more meetings to go. They're always whining about needing umpires, so I feel like I'm doing a public service. But the more important thing is: can a middle-age woman look hot in an umpire uniform?
I try to dig out of my comfort zone from time to time. This school year I bravely signed up to sub, and what could be scarier than entering a roomful of alien snot-nosed kindergartners when you're first-day ragging, without the benefit of a sedative and an extra tampon?
Earlier last year I wore a velour warmup suit and sported an unflattering Farrah hairdo for my performance as nitwit cheated-upon wife Edie in "A Need for Less Expertise," the role that Anne Jackson made famous, well, nowhere. In the main room of a firehall, the audience thisclose, I made myself cry on cue as well as allowed my costar to remove my Keds and massage my feet--an act of selfless courage, particularly for him because my feet in Keds, and out, are probably not an aromatic delight.
So I'm continuing this trend out of my comfort zone by taking a Little League umpiring class. To become a volunteer Little League umpire. Insanely, way far out of anyone's comfort zone, if you ask me.
I've played ball for what...30-hrumphhrumph years now. Oh, bloody hell, closer to 40 than 30. Anyway, it's amazing how much I don't know about the rules.
Last night I walked up the stairs to the meeting room, filled with close to 40 men and boys (if I ever have a band, THAT's the name of it: "40 Men and Boys.") Heads turned as I entered; clearly I was an interloper. Maybe somebody's wifey, come to bring hubby a forgotten snack or something. But no. I looked around confidently, demurely brushed the hair from my eyes, took my jacket off, and sat my tall blond kiss-my-ass self down, armed with a notebook and a pen, ready to learn.
There's a lot to learn.
Mike, an accountant by trade who takes umpiring very, very seriously (so seriously he has an umpire bobblehead in his car--I mean, that's just sick) gave us a slow rundown of what he hoped to accomplish, followed by a true/false test. After a while, I picked up on the fact that all the answers were false, and he was tricking us.
He spent the better part of the evening telling us about safety issues and how important it is not to argue, so already I'm a failure at umping. But one rule he discussed was 7.08(i) which prohibits a runner from "running the bases in reverse order for the purpose of confusing the defense or making a travesty of the game." So a guy on second could theoretically run to first to draw the throw, allowing a runner on third to score...but he'd be breaking the rules. A travesty and a mockery would ensue, probably followed by bedlam.
I just like the wording of the rule: "making a travesty of the game." Like A-Rod's salary doesn't already do that.
Still, it was as interesting as it probably could've been for a 3-hour meeting about umpiring. And there are 3 more meetings to go. They're always whining about needing umpires, so I feel like I'm doing a public service. But the more important thing is: can a middle-age woman look hot in an umpire uniform?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
