Joys of the Noble Sport
Chuck Terhark has written a nice piece for the CP proper, detailing the joys of Twins baseball "hidden between the lines" of the game. He means, of course, the little things that make this lovely game such a pleasure no matter where your team stands in the standings.
Pay attention, for we all know that there's a decent chance that the Twins will fail to make it this year, or even rise above third or fourth place, and musings such as these help us all to endure. (This is good info for fans of every team--the Tigers and Indians could tank as well. And the Yankees, well, they haven't had to deal with this crap for a long time...) If you're a baseball fan, and not from New York, you've experienced these pleasures firsthand: a season that loses its promise early, leaving you with literally dozens and dozens of games to either trudge through or appreciate with a patience of a bird-watcher in a Louisiana swamp.
Chuck includes a list (scroll down the article) of all the things he loves about the Twins that really aren't even about the Twins. If you actually waited up until nearly midnight last evening, only to watch the Twins drop another game with little offensive fireworks, you're probably in need of some kind of tonic to ease the burden on your soul. Then again, if there's any truth to what the Angel fans said in the comments to yesterday's entry, maybe you're so damned depressed that you don't live in sunny suburbs of the City of Quartz that nothing will raise your spirits.
No one asked for it, but here's my favorite moments between the lines:
- Driving around the lakes with the windows down, that organic smell of fish and foliage filling your car, and the sounds of a baseball game from the radio. - Reading the baseball news the next day with a cup of coffee. For that matter, reading about baseball all season is a joy. - I cannot deny CT's adoration of the Hormel Row of Fame song. - Getting pushed out the doors of the Dome after a game by gusts of pressurized wind (if they don't force everyone through the revolving doors). - Even though I wish we had an open-air stadium, there's nothing better than the sound of a monster thunderstorm blasting away at the roof. Or the changing light patterns on a partly cloudy afternoon game. - Section 113. Games against Seattle. Tons of Japanese there to worship Ichiro. Scores of undoubtedly awful digital photos and movies. Inevitably, one will purchase a flaccid foot-long hot dog that appears as if its owner has emptied every bottle of condiments between first base and his seat in left. And manages not to spill a drop. Happens every time. - Again, I can't help but agree that Mike Redmond's cool. - Those lucky kids announcing players. - Hot dogs. I will concede to Angels fans that Dodger Dogs are the worse wieners in baseball (that I've tasted). - Watching the scores around the league during the game.
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