As far as omens go, it doesn’t get much worse than this.
On a Wednesday evening a couple weeks ago, at about 7:30 pm, I proposed something radical: how about we eat on the couch tonight, while watching… Game One of the American League Division Series! This was greeted with surprising enthusiasm. Abby and Phoebe marched over with their plates and plopped down next to me. Hey, great: they finally want to watch with me! We’re going to watch a baseball game together! I’ll teach them the basics, maybe work up to some nuances, even instill some passion – you know, pass down a little of what my father passed down to me when I was a kid. (My dad still goes outside and sits in his car at night, by himself, to listen to the Yankees on AM radio because it’s the only place he gets decent reception). Before long, they’ll be reading Ball Four and trolling ebay for Ron Guidry rookie cards! As Abby’s magic eight ball might say, all signs were pointing to yes.
Then the Yankees took the field.
“Daddy,” Abby said. “Who are the Jets playing?”
And just like that, the dream died. (more…)
