I love baseball. Those that know me understand that I’m not a sports fanatic by any means. I can’t sit here and repeat stats. I don’t talk about all my high school sports experiences, for which there are none because I didn’t really do much at all in those areas. I don’t know who all the superstars are. I can barely tell you a lot about any of the teams that I claim to like. I might be able to tell you about some of the really cool baseball cards that are somewhere in my old bedroom of my parent’s house, but even those memories are fleeting.
Last night, I watched the Braves play the Mets. I don’t like either of those teams. I could care less about how they do for the rest of the year. It’s just the pure enjoyment of the game. I can’t explain it. It’s not too fast, yet slow enough to stay within the sanity of my mind. If I look away for a minute, I won’t miss too much. Bathroom break and you might miss a home run, but that’s what instant replay is for.
When it comes down to it, I think back to the baseball game that I saw in Yokohama, Japan. The Yokohama BayStars. Memory fails me on who they played, but the whole stadium was nothing short of electric. I loved every second of it. All I could think, “This is what baseball is supposed to be like.” I guess every time I watch a game, I kind of feel that moment reliving itself all over again. Thinking of the time where I got to enjoy a Sapporo and a beef bowl at a baseball game.
And yeah, I cut myself today doing the Java House. Mic stands have pinched my fingers before, only leaving blood blisters. This time, it ripped a chunk of skin out of my index finger. It might be high time that I think about switching up to coffee from my usual, weekly hot apple cider.