The DBacks had a tremendous run which ran its course last night. We don't want to get too far ahead of events, but curious to speculate that if, in the playoffs, barring a catastrophe, they get past the Rockies and Dodgers, they just might meet the Senators for the NL championship. Not a gambling man, we'll just see. Whomever, I'm looking forward to a championship venue.
This is Irma. We sat next to her and her husband Steve a couple seasons ago. I was fortunate to accompany a fellow with excellent seats. Steve was a vociferous DBack fan but my friend rooted for both sides. Irma quite enthusiastic as well. I've followed the team since inception (fading in and out depending on the time to pass and their standing) and am glad of it insofar as I was conditioned in the bleachers of Yankee Stadium, not to mention we played every day from spring to fall.
When the Yankee outfielders took the field, they'd toss the ball warming up. Yogi Berra, getting on for the legs and all, would play left field, handing over the catching duties to Elston Howard. We'd holler, "Hey, Yogi!" until he turned and waved. You just never forget. It got to the point of taking it for granted; then CBS debacle.
Had a fantastic time watching the 2001 series. Despite said conditioning, rooted for DBacks but had to be 'professional' about it because, for dear old Dad it was still "My Yankees." (Need an eye-rolling emoji here had they one.) My mother, and old NY Giant fan, all for the DBacks and the local rave, had to be as delicate about the circumstance as I. The rest is history. Best series ever and sort of illustrated how New Yorkers sometimes feel the universe revolves around them. Having been there, done that, I know it's not the case, but the constituent moxie comes in handy sometimes.
Met a girl once. Became fast friends. We sit down and she tells me her life story, bells and whistles, drama and trauma; TMI. Well, I listened and reassured her best I could and wrapped up the conversation with a memory of an old New Yorker cartoon. Fellow on the couch, his shrink alongside at the piano: "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile." Thought we'd bonded somehow but she wasn't seriously interested and I had to come to grips with it. Always difficult, making too much of commiseration. So you clam up and it's your turn.
Ah, the World Champs! Dream on. Too many applications. Have yourself a tantrum.
Carrying on is one thing, song and a dance and all that, but some things are worth carrying best you can. So funny, Francesca in earshot, talking about the Doolittle Raid off the Hornet with another fellow. When asked by the press gaggle where the planes had taken off from, FDR responded, "Shangri-la." Of course we hope never again and we'll take it from there. Wonderful notion but get real, real fast. There you go... take things as they come, as they are. Don't see how one can enjoy life otherwise.
So, good thing baseball; morale, eh? Yet she's got to stick to business and we wish her well. Too much to consider, considering the theater of it all, all a movie indeed.
This is Irma. We sat next to her and her husband Steve a couple seasons ago. I was fortunate to accompany a fellow with excellent seats. Steve was a vociferous DBack fan but my friend rooted for both sides. Irma quite enthusiastic as well. I've followed the team since inception (fading in and out depending on the time to pass and their standing) and am glad of it insofar as I was conditioned in the bleachers of Yankee Stadium, not to mention we played every day from spring to fall.
When the Yankee outfielders took the field, they'd toss the ball warming up. Yogi Berra, getting on for the legs and all, would play left field, handing over the catching duties to Elston Howard. We'd holler, "Hey, Yogi!" until he turned and waved. You just never forget. It got to the point of taking it for granted; then CBS debacle.
Had a fantastic time watching the 2001 series. Despite said conditioning, rooted for DBacks but had to be 'professional' about it because, for dear old Dad it was still "My Yankees." (Need an eye-rolling emoji here had they one.) My mother, and old NY Giant fan, all for the DBacks and the local rave, had to be as delicate about the circumstance as I. The rest is history. Best series ever and sort of illustrated how New Yorkers sometimes feel the universe revolves around them. Having been there, done that, I know it's not the case, but the constituent moxie comes in handy sometimes.
Met a girl once. Became fast friends. We sit down and she tells me her life story, bells and whistles, drama and trauma; TMI. Well, I listened and reassured her best I could and wrapped up the conversation with a memory of an old New Yorker cartoon. Fellow on the couch, his shrink alongside at the piano: "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile." Thought we'd bonded somehow but she wasn't seriously interested and I had to come to grips with it. Always difficult, making too much of commiseration. So you clam up and it's your turn.
Ah, the World Champs! Dream on. Too many applications. Have yourself a tantrum.
Carrying on is one thing, song and a dance and all that, but some things are worth carrying best you can. So funny, Francesca in earshot, talking about the Doolittle Raid off the Hornet with another fellow. When asked by the press gaggle where the planes had taken off from, FDR responded, "Shangri-la." Of course we hope never again and we'll take it from there. Wonderful notion but get real, real fast. There you go... take things as they come, as they are. Don't see how one can enjoy life otherwise.
So, good thing baseball; morale, eh? Yet she's got to stick to business and we wish her well. Too much to consider, considering the theater of it all, all a movie indeed.
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