Spinsterblog

I am kind of a wuss.

I am the kind of girl who cries at Hallmark commercials.* I also cry at movies and TV shows and REM concerts, but generally I draw the line at baseball games and that sort of thing since, well, it is only a game, and one that I am not even playing.**

Oh, sure, I got all sniffly when Little Jonny Lester threw his no-hitter. When Tito hugged him after the game? Just thinking about it makes me choke up a little. But, generally speaking, unless there is some sort of overcoming-life-and-death theme happening, I don’t get particularly teary-eyed thinking about baseball.

Until now, apparently.

And here is the thing. It’s over those “There’s Only One October” ads. Y’all, I hate that theme–I think it is stupid and annoying and I couldn’t be less emotionally excited about it. Or, I couldn’t have, until they started putting my Fighting Sunbeams in the ads.

Y’all. My Tampa Bay Rays are IN A COMMERCIAL FOR THE POSTSEASON.

That is really when it hit me that it might be a possibility. Not all the times when I’ve looked at their record and the standings. Not when I’ve spent hours every day memorizing Baseball Prsopectus’ postseason odds page. No, it was when I saw the “There’s Only One October” ad.

There’s still a huge part of me that is trying not to get my hopes up, particularly since DANIELLE JUST FELT THE NEED TO SAY SOMETHING INCREDIBLY JINXY ABOUT MY RAYS OUT LOUD BECAUSE SHE IS MEAN. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, the season-ending slide to begin. I’m expecting them to go into the ninth inning with a seven run lead and then lose the game, because then I can be angry, but my little optimistic feelings will not be squashed like a bug.

But somewhere, there is a teeny tiny part of me that thinks they can do it. And that part of me apparently likes to cry at bad commercials.

* Y’all, the one where the kid gives his teacher a thank you note to thank her for helping him learn to read? And then ASKS IF HE CAN READ IT TO HER? SOB!
** Me not playing is actually the ONLY reason I am able to say “it is only a game.”

An actual conversation I had with Sara

Sara: So, what did you do this weekend?
Me: Umm, watched the Boston Red Sox WIN THE WORLD SERIES.
Sara: Is that a joke?
Me: [long pause] NO.
Sara: Oh. You’d think I would have heard about that.
Me: You’d THINK.

So now that I’m not spending three (or five) hours every night watching baseball, I have to ask: what do normal people do with their evenings?

I’m taking a quick poll.

Now, I’m not a fan of pink sportswear, in general. Not really the color, per se, but the pink hat fans who have their pink jerseys and don’t understand the infield fly rule. You know, the ones who give all female fans a bad name because we seem like we are all girlie about baseball and that our appreciation for the game only goes as far as the knowledge that Gabe Kapler is hot. (He totally is, but that’s beside the point.) And apparently the girlie-fication of sportswear is calming down a little, because I couldn’t find a pink jersey in any online sports store, and thus am unable to illustrate part of my point. But let’s move on.

Not long ago I bought Jack (Cath? Am I allowed to link to your blog, or would you prefer I didn’t?) a Red Sox cap, because apparently he has friends who are Yankees fans, and I feel it is my duty as honorary aunt and crazy person to nip that in the bud. And while I was browsing the MLB shop, I bought a henley that looks like this, except it has a Boston logo on it.

OMG, you’d think I’d have bought a pink jersey with DAMON 18 on the back, the way that Danielle carried on. She says that my pink henley is EXACTLY like that, but I say it is almost totally different. It’s not like I took the team’s jersey or t-shirt or whatever and waved my magical princess wand to make it pink and girlie. I bought a pink henley that has, as an added bonus, a Red Sox logo on it. I say it is completely different. She says I make us look bad.

Dear Reader(s), what are your thoughts? Feel free to tell Danielle how wrong she is in the comments.

Dear Rays:

First of all, let me say that I’m really excited that you will only be the Devil Rays for a few more days, and then next season we switch over to Just Plain Rays. That is spectacular news, guys. It is almost as exciting at the thought that you will no longer have those stupid sleeveless uniforms anymore.
Read more…

So, I was talking to kate the other day and, since she knows what a giant baseball jinx I am, she asked if I’d broken anyone during my trip.

Umm, myself?

Read more…

Following in the illustrious path of Curt Schilling, Kevin Youkilis has created a blog: Yooooouuuuukkkkk. There are no words for the amount of excitement that this brings me. Especially because with just the first entry, he has achieved a whole new level of awesome by talking smack about Dustin Pedroia.

The entry brings us this gem:

I’ve already proven I’m faster than Dustin but, who knows, maybe we can have a race for charity sometime.

OMG, please. I would pay even more money to see that than I would for Youk to shave that crap off of his chin. I would pay all kinds of cash to cancer research or whatever for the opportunity to watch Kevin Youkilis and Dustin Pedroia lumber down the basepaths like the giant President mascots at gNats games. Please, please, please, Youk. Do it for the children.

On a completely unrelated note, I have a new tale to share in the Saga of Mel and Her Baseball Cap. Last weekend, I went down to a little park by the water to read. As it is finally sunshiney and summery here, I had my Sox cap on. I walked past this middle-aged man who was reading the paper, and the following conversation happened.

Guy: [pointing] HEY! Boston!
Mel: Yup.
Guy: They’re in first place.
Mel: [long pause] Great, isn’t it?

Okay, so let’s be clear.  When I had my dreams of using my ballcap to start conversations with cute boys, this is not what I meant. I meant that we could chat about Kevin Youkilis’ OBP and how great Josh Beckett has been this season. Considering what a bitch I can be, I feel I showed great restraint in not replying, “Umm, yeah. No shit.”

So, guys. When you see me wearing a ballcap, please don’t patronize me. I mean, sure, maybe if Saturday night the Sox had won a game that finally moved them into first place, THEN you oculd have informed me, in case I didn’t know. But, seriously, man, when the sox were TEN GAMES UP, I really didn’t need a newsflash.  The cap is not pink, my t-shirt did NOT say “Mrs. Damon,” and I do actually watch almost every single game. So if you could maybe not assume that I am a blithering idiot when it comes to baseball, that would be great. kthxbye.

Gwen is doing NaBloPoMo! Yay for her! Personally, I think I’m going to run out of topics to post about sometime tomorrow. Is that a bad sign?

I made an AMAZING discovery while I was on the cruiseship and I figured I could share it with y’all, because I know everyone’s interested in The Epic Saga of Mel’s Baseball Cap Wearing Habits. Read more…

Baseball is turning me into a giant freak. Last night I had this dream where I was pinch-running for the Boston Red Sox. Yes, that’s right.

Even in the dream, this seemed unusual to me. So my dreamself tried to figure out why. In case you’re wondering, it wasn’t because the last time I played baseball was fifth grade PE class. It wasn’t that it was the Red Sox, who, last I checked, hadn’t drafted or traded for me. I also didn’t think it was weird because I run slower than Mike Lowell when his ankle’s bothering him.

No, I decided it was odd because I was the only woman on the field.

The irony, of course, is that if things get much worse, Terry Francona may have to resort to putting me in as a pinch runner. *sigh*

I’m sending many good thoughts in the direction of Boston and David Ortiz.

If Mel Ruled the World of Baseball

1. They would no longer be called “hits.”
Seriously, they HIT the ball to fly out, so call it something else, please.  No, I don’t have any suggestions that sound better, but if I have all this theoretical power to change all the rules, surely I have enough power to delegate that responsibility to someone with more imagination.

2. Kevin Youkilis would have to wear his socks up.
Because I can’t believe he *doesn’t*.

3. If you’re in the stands, on your cell phone, and waving at the camera, you’ll get kicked out of the game.
OMG, YOU’RE ON TV!1!!!11!! Nobody cares. Sit down and stop distracting me. Also, if your sign is spelled wrong or grammatically incorrect, you have to give up your seat and sit in an obstructed view seat.

4. Pitchers would earn RBIs.
Not because they’re playing for a National League team, but because they walked in a run or let a run score on an error that they made.

5. If there’s no one on base and you hit a long fly ball, but are able to reach first before it’s caught, you’re safe.
Think how fast we’d see Manny running to first!

6. The Boston media would no longer be able to choose illogical scapegoats for Red Sox losses.
For example, today’s headlines would be all about Mike Timlin giving up a leadoff walk and then letting him score.  There would not be articles about Wily Mo (although he does look like ME out there fumbling around in right field), since the runner would have scored EVEN IF HE’D CAUGHT THE BALL. So back off of him and go after Timlin, who also trashed his teammates by saying they’re not hitting the ball right now. Yeah, like when they scored 11 runs on Sunday, Timlin. Like that. Jerkface.  

I keep starting out this entry by saying “I don’t want to talk about last night’s Red Sox game except to say…” and then the next thing I know I’ve ranted for five or six paragraphs, which kinda defeats the purpose of a sidenote, now doesn’t it?  But I will not cave to the temptation to discuss how Josh Beckett will have to pitch a no-hitter in Yankee Stadium before I will forgive him for his performance last night.

But enough about that–let’s talk about me.

Specifically, let’s talk about how I caved to the collective pressure of Sara, Nicole, and my cousin Heather and got a myspace.

I know, I know. I feel like I lost all my geek street cred. On the bright side, by using that phrase I’m sure to have earned it all back.

Anyway, I’ve got it all set up and I have six whole friends and my reaction is pretty much: so what? I guess it has some sort of blogging function, although from what I can see nobody seems to use it much. And regardless, I’d rather blog here, anyway where it’s quiet and there aren’t any blinking ads and nobody’s spelling “you” with only a single letter.  Of course, I don’t have much to say and not many people are reading this, but it makes me happy and gives me a place to vent about Josh Beckett lasting less than two innings because he hates puppies and sunshine and happiness.

So, basically we come to the point of this “entry”: a link to my myspace.

Gold star for whomever can place the entry title. No cheating!