Brad took me to my first professional baseball game last night. The Cubs vs. the Dodgers. I donned one of Brad's numerous Cubs hats (the one that came closest to fitting), and we spent the next hour in the car thinking of first and middle names that go well together. I found a perfect girl's name, but I'm not telling anyone. Someone would inevitably steal it. It's that good.
The game didn't look like it was going to go well for the Cubs. They were down by...five? Then in one single inning the Cubs made seven runs, but lost 9-8 in the end. So it was quite intense, really. I said plenty of things that probably made Brad embarrassed to be sitting next to me, such as calling runs points. Almost everyone at a baseball game seems to be drunk or drinking. The huge variety of people present at a baseball game is amazing. There are little old men who look like they belong to baseball in a different time, drunk moms in their fifties wearing fake tattoo sleeves, young teenage couples, and dads ignoring their kids to pay attention to the game.
Baseball players do an excellent job of making batting look impossible.
Eating the hot dog Brad got me, sitting in my hoodie and Cubs hat, while Brad kept score (which I called taking notes), I felt very much in the spirit of baseball.
Brad put the finishing touches on his unintelligible score sheet, filled with abbreviations that I could only guess at. I'm tempted to call Brad a baseball purist, but I probably don't know enough about baseball to say that with any real knowledge. However, he just confirmed it when I asked him, so I guess I can say that. While most of Brad would prefer to live in a future where you're beamed from one location to another, I think he also belongs in the world of baseball in the 1940s/50s.
Well...that's about that. Oh, and Ben K, I'm going to miss House, so I really hope you record it!