My mother and i are true baseball fans of a losing team. My father has yet to elucidate his favor; but, he doesn't seem to mind drinking in the stands. Rooting for a loser helps absolve the absurdity of professional sports. In other words, we may be fans and consumers of a grossly irrelevant and diseased product, but at least we're not Yankee fans, right?
In moments of natural pentothal, we admit that our adulations and afflictions for the Seattle Mariners are ridiculous to say the least. But there's something there that relates directly to what my parents love to call "The human condition." This reference can be made numerous times in a singular conversation. There's some humble admittance to being human, a quality of entertainment both superfluous and inane, that proves to be unburdening. It's the accession to being human and accepting all that that entails, which releases us from unnecessary punishment.
In one of yesterday's ballgames, a fan threw a tube of muscle pain reliever at Barry Bonds as he ran into the outfield. The fan was immediately arrested and taken out of the park. This is the second time already for Barry. A few weeks ago in San Diego a fan threw a syringe at him. Apparently a new demarcation between fanaticism and humor is being established.
It was always fun to boo Jose Canseco; everyone enjoyed themselves and could be seen smiling as they assaulted the airwaves with the letter 'b.' No harm was ever done. It was wholly necessary to boo Alex Rodriguez when he accepted $252 million and claimed that the money wasn't a concern. And who could forget the creationist Carl Everett who lives in a world without space travel, gay people, or dinosaurs. I'd boo him except he's on my team now.
As i head toward Seattle to catch another game at Safeco Field, i hope for only three things: that we may drink good beer in our $600 million stadium, find a Texas Ranger (the visiting team) to blithely harass, and win the fucking game!
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