Friday, October 26, 2007

The Red Sox Are Ahead

So we live in Baltimore, but my family roots for the Red Sox (it's a by-marriage sort of thing). Fortunately, the Orioles don't make this very hard.

In theory, I'm all into it. I like being aligned with a cause--something more fun than all the medical policy stuff I get to be indignant over. I bought a Red Sox flag and hung it on the house. I sort of know what's going on, I know the names of the players, sometimes even their numbers, I know who Dice-K, Youk, and Big Papi are. I know what it means (I think) to say "It's Manny being Manny." I know most of the rules and how the game is played, which is much more than I can say for football, even though that's the other non-stop event in my house.

I like the idea but as a true sports fan, I just don't cut it. The guys in my house can recite every play, every at bat, every caught and almost-caught ball. I can sit in front of the TV staring at it, get bored and faze out. Then I suddenly realize there are two men on base and I never noticed them getting there. Pitchers duel are the worst. I do tend to remember Grand Slams, and I usually know who won.

When I met ClinkShrink, she was a Twins fan. Now, she never talks baseball. And Roy, as a sports guy, he's a failure.

So what's this got to do with psychiatry?


Anonymous said...

EEK, Actually this has a lot more to do with psychaitry than you may think. After all the word "fan" is not short for fantastic but for fanatic. And there are plenty of people out there who are addicted to sports. The red sox however is a different kind of disease. Their quest over eighty six years in pursuit of a seemingly unattainable World Series title, gave fans a sense of commuinity unlike many sports have (of course Cubs fans share a similar painful if not more painful history).
Sharing sporting events to me also unites families in ways that are special and give meaning to our relationships of a sort. Like that commercial for Master Card where they give the exhorbanant (sp?) prices of food and tickets to a game. But spending the day with the family without the TV and computer is priceless.
May the red sox prevail and all of us dance like Jonathan Papelbon (you do know who that is right?) I still love you even you don't understand football which has always been my personal favorite. Love abf

Rach said...

Actually I was going to ask you if you shrinks are as addicted to ice cream as you are to pizza.

ClinkShrink said...

I'm more addicted to pizza lately. But now that you mentioned it...

Dinah said...

Ice cream.

Tintin said...

Aahh, baseball. A good pennant race is better than any mood stabilizer imho. But my psychiatrist would probably disagree if I showed up in his office with my face painted in team colors.

I once had tickets to Game 4 of the World Series. The problem was I was in the hospital recovering from surgery -- my MDs would call it major, I didn't think the incision was THAT big ;) I had a grand scheme with accomplices all mapped out to spirit me out of the hospital for 3+ hours. We figured as long as I brought back enough "We're #1" foam fingers for the nurses I would be fine. The game ended up being rescheduled a few days in advance because of previous weather delays.

As Chico Escuela of Saturday Night LIve fame would say, "Beisbol been bery bery good to me."

FooFoo5 said...

Since the Padres are known for their dumpster dive come mid-September, I generally don't pay much attention until the Playoffs. I am then aligned with whoever can take out the Yankees. But, since the dramatic 2004 Playoffs & World Series, when one night here it was cool and rainy enough to remind me of baseball in NY, I found it easy to like the Red Sox. And Mr. Papelbon seems to need a psychiatrist, Dinah.

Sarebear said...

I don't get baseball. I get the skill etc (as long as meds or whatnot aren't involved) but they just stand around alot, and then there's a little bit of action, and then it's more boring boring boring.

I can see how others would really get into it, though! It's not my cup of cocoa.

Speaking of ice cream, my current love is Dreyer's Loaded, Butterfingers, ltd. edition Ice Cream.

Mmmmmm. I haven't eaten it out of a bowl in FORever; a spoon and the carton are my friends. Um, and as soon as I can get my knee looked at, some exercise . . .

I like to let it soften up a bit, and then I run the spoon around the soft stuff at the edges. When I eventually get to the bottom (only once have I eaten a whole one in one day, I try to spread it over a week, but that once was a particularly bad time . . . it's better than cutting ones' self, at any rate), or somewhat close to the bottom, I turn the ice cream over (by this time the edges down to the bottom are gone, because of being the perfect texture/temperature ooooo yummmm lol!) Then I get all the nice semi-soft goodness off the bottom , and then . . .

It doesn't HAVE to be eaten that way, I fight the impulses/constraints/RULES/etc. that try to impose themselves on most everything I do . . . so far, I'm good at fighting it off here.

Plus, it's so dang good I have to eat some spoons of it hard cold out of the freezer straitaway. Not that it's HARD hard, but fairly stiff.

Ugh. I've been up all night with my daughter since 1 am, worrying myself sick as she vomited every ten minutes. So forgive my digressions/ramblings.

I could sure use some of that ice cream right about now . . . lol!