You're LATE, Jet!
Oct. 22nd, 2007 09:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
in_the_blueLook, I'm not gloating. For 7+ innings that was a nail-biter of a game. It was fabulous, and all (two) Cleveland Indians fans ought to be really proud of their team.
Baseball is a game of mathematics, of percentages. All of it can be distilled into ratios for the record books. What it doesn't always take into account are things like home-field advantage and fan adoration. But those who watch it and play it know these things matter immensely: even living 3000 miles away, there's nothing like seeing your team win on their turf. I used to make the trek up to Seattle every year to watch the Red Sox play there, but even though I love the team, it's not the same. I cut my baseball teeth on Fenway Park, which is one of the most precious, beautiful, old, crappy baseball fields left in the country. I hope they never move, even though there's no parking and it's a giant pain in the ass to get there and you're going to have your bag stolen as you walk through Kenmore Square and over the Mass Pike. But still, it's a beautiful place and I'm thankful I ever spent as much time there as I did.
Before I go on and wax poetic endlessly about the Red Sox, I'd like to take a moment to recommend a book. If you consider yourself a baseball fan and you happen to be female, or just like females, you might want to read Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend: Women Writers on Baseball. This is one of my favorite collections and one of the only books that's ever inspired me to write poetry about baseball. That poem (fortunately) is lost to the archives of time, but every fall I'm reminded of it, and of how much I love the game and this book. It doesn't matter which team you like and root for: the collection (essays, poems, fiction) is fabulous and contains works from women as diverse in style and scope as Marianne Moore and Shirley Jackson and Doris Kearns Goodwin.
Anyway.
Happy Monday? My plans for the day just got canceled. I think I'll go unpack my stuff and set it up in my new office. I'm pretty confident I get web access up there...
Baseball is a game of mathematics, of percentages. All of it can be distilled into ratios for the record books. What it doesn't always take into account are things like home-field advantage and fan adoration. But those who watch it and play it know these things matter immensely: even living 3000 miles away, there's nothing like seeing your team win on their turf. I used to make the trek up to Seattle every year to watch the Red Sox play there, but even though I love the team, it's not the same. I cut my baseball teeth on Fenway Park, which is one of the most precious, beautiful, old, crappy baseball fields left in the country. I hope they never move, even though there's no parking and it's a giant pain in the ass to get there and you're going to have your bag stolen as you walk through Kenmore Square and over the Mass Pike. But still, it's a beautiful place and I'm thankful I ever spent as much time there as I did.
Before I go on and wax poetic endlessly about the Red Sox, I'd like to take a moment to recommend a book. If you consider yourself a baseball fan and you happen to be female, or just like females, you might want to read Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend: Women Writers on Baseball. This is one of my favorite collections and one of the only books that's ever inspired me to write poetry about baseball. That poem (fortunately) is lost to the archives of time, but every fall I'm reminded of it, and of how much I love the game and this book. It doesn't matter which team you like and root for: the collection (essays, poems, fiction) is fabulous and contains works from women as diverse in style and scope as Marianne Moore and Shirley Jackson and Doris Kearns Goodwin.
Anyway.
Happy Monday? My plans for the day just got canceled. I think I'll go unpack my stuff and set it up in my new office. I'm pretty confident I get web access up there...
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Date: 2007-10-22 05:00 pm (UTC)